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CLARE VAUGHAN. 



CLARE VAUGHAN 



LADY LOVAT 






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A NEW EDITION WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS AND 
SOME HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED LETTERS 



New York 
THE CATHEDRAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION 

1896. 



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Copyright, Joseph H. McMahon, 1896. 









PREFACE. 



When the writer of this beautiful life asked of me to 
add a few words by way of preface, I could not refuse; 
but I little knew what I was promising. Nothing can 
be added which will not take away something of the 
completeness and beauty of the book. 

The life of Sister Mary Clare is truly Franciscan in 
the love of poverty and the love of God. It reads like 
another chapter in the " Little Flowers of St. Francis," 
breathing the same charity, joy, and peace in the Holy 
Ghost. M ,._ „ 

Neither sorrow nor suffering, though of both Mary 
Clare had much, ever darken&I her joy. It came from 
the unchanging love of her Divine Master and her long- 
ing soon to see Him in the eternal rest. 

This book is a witness to the world of the sanctity of 
the only Church of Jesus Christ, for on no other stem 
do such fruits grow. It is a sample of the homes of 
Catholic England, imperishable through centuries of 
penal laws and the proud contempt of the world that 
knew them not. It is also a standard by which to meas- 
ure the true Christian life, and the high aspiration of 
Catholic faith. And in this it is both a rebuke to many 

ill. 



iv. PREFACE. 

homes and hearts at this day, and a voice full of en- 
couragement and of strength, saying to us all, "Come 
up hither." What St. Agnes was to the men and wom- 
en of Eome, Mary Clare may be to us in these relax- 
ing days in England. 

Henry Edward, 

Cardinal Archbishop. 
Westminster, Aug, 7th, 1887. 




PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 



There are sufficient reasons for publishing this new 
edition of Clare Vaugban's beautiful life by Lady Lovat. 
In the first place, it is not as widely known as it deserves, 
especially among those to whom it might become an 
incentive to search after that precious pearl of the re- 
ligious life, which grows daily more rare amid the nu- 
merous devices of modern worldliness, ever eager to 
discredit the spirit of Christian self-sacrifice. We 
have come to view the systematic cultivation of bodily 
comforts and of physical enjoyment as both a necessity 
and a duty which must not be interfered with by the 
obligations of religion; and that, whatever allowance 
we may make for the spiritual aspirations and devout 
practices of past generations, this enlightened age has 
outgrown the need and, indeed, the capacity of bodily 
mortification and self-imposed humiliation. Clare 
Vanghan stands in evidence against this spirit of our 
age; and if there be in her actions, at times, that which 
must seem to us extravagant, let us remember that love 
is impulsive, and that the more intense it is, the less 
can we make it accountable to the exactions of mere 
human prudence. ISTo one assumes that the extraordin- 
ary outbursts of divine passion in heroic souls are writ- 



vi. PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. 

ten down in order to cause the reader to imitate them. 
They are intended only as proofs of the quality of a love 
which forgets self in its longing for union with God, a 
longing which w T e all are placed on earth to kindle in 
our hearts by prayer and fidelity to grace. 

The present volume has been enriched by some hith- 
erto unpublished letters from Clare Vaughan to Miss 
Bellasis, a nun of the Holy Child Jesus, and by a few 
extracts from other sources. 

For the illustrations, we are indebted to the kindness 
of Father Kenelm Vaughan, and to the courtesy of the 
Superioress of the Convent of Poor Clares at Amiens, 
where the beautiful blossom of Clarets vocation unfolded 
under the influence of the Perpetual Adoration of the 
Most Blessed Sacrament. There, at the foot of the al- 
tar, she placed the scarcely opened flower of her inno- 
cent life, and the sweet fragrance of her truly heroic 
virtues still pervades the secluded spot. May its per- 
fumes be carried across the ocean to the young and pure 
in heart of our land, to the lovers of the Blessed Sacra- 
ment, and to all those who long for the "Kingdom 
come," which is opened only to the humble of heart 
and the mortified! 



INTRODUCTION. 



To some of us God has given, once in our lives, to 
know one of His hidden saints, and though, perhaps — 
life is so busy, we cannot always stop to learn the 
lessons it brings us — we have passed on unconscious or 
only half-conscious of the meaning of the gift, yet the 
time comes when we pause and find out what He has 
given us, and then perchance taken away. 

It is of one of these chosen souls, hidden, indeed, ex- 
cept to a privileged few, that the following sketch is 
written. To the little circle in which she lived, Clare 
Vaughan was in truth the bright moving example as 
she is now its most beloved memory. Many have done 
greater things for God in the world's sight, have striv- 
en and fought and conquered in harder fields of battle, 
and have found a far wider field for their activities. 
Hers was very small; she was hardly known outside the 
immediate circle of her friends and relations, and lat- 
terly to the Community of Poor Clares at Amiens. Of 
the outside world she knew nothing. For her it con- 
tained only one Object of interest, one Model for imi- 
tation — Jesus Christ. What He loved and came to save 
she also loved — sinners; and because He had "nothing 
to do with the world," without knowing it she hated it, 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION. 

and in this is contained the lesson of her life. Simple 
and unpretending as it was in other respects, it preached 
with a voice which never faltered the great truth which 
none can learn too quickly or too well, that there is in 
God's creation but one Object of love, which is Himself. 
He only is worthy of our hearts who made them; be- 
low, and at the root of everything else, there is ever 
" le vide et le neant" and no one could come in con- 
tact with Clare without learning something of this. 
She constrained people to love God better, sl>e made 
them love the things she loved — such as mortification, 
self-denial, etc. — because she herseif saw in these things 
only the means (which gave them an irresistible charm 
in her eyes) of making herself like to Him who took 
on Him all our sins, and "by whose stripes we are 
healed." 

She did not reason about her love; it belonged to 
her as part of her being to love beautiful things — na- 
ture, music, and above all, poetry; and as these things 
did not satisfy her panting soul, most of all she loved 
Him; and as He wept with Martha and Mary, and re- 
joiced at Cana and feasted with Zaccheus, so she also 
threw herself heart and soul into the sorrows and joys 
and trials of those with whom she lived, and was "all 
things to all men" that she might win souls to God. 
This feature in her character shows itself most promi- 
nently in her letters, and forms their charm. There is 
no aiming at effect, above all, no attempt at preaching; 
only the tenderest interest in all the concerns of the 
persons to whom she is writing, and the most heart 
felt sympathy in their troubles and joys. Still, through 



INTR OD UCTIOJST. ix 

all this, and mingling with it, we can always detect the 
presence of what may be called the master passion, the 
"note" of her life: "Let us love the Lord Our God 
with our whole heart, and our whole soul, and with all 
our mind" ; and then when the truth, so long hoped- 
for, so eagerly expected, dawned upon her: "For a 
night cometh when no man may work." 

" Precious in the sight of God," we are told by the 
Scriptures, " is the death of His saints"; and if the 
prophet speaks so of the death of the saints, are we to 
suppose that their lives are less beautiful and pleasing 
to Him, or less full of edification to us? 

The Mohammedans, it is said, pickup carefully every 
piece of paper they come across, lest the name of God 
should be written on it and trampled under foot. 
Should we do less with the lives of the elect, on whom 
the name of God is written, not once, but many times? 
Should we not rather treasure them up, keeping them 
before our eyes, trying to learn the lesson they may 
have for us ? It may be urged Clare Vaughan is not 
a canonized saint, and it is far from our intention to 
claim any such title for her; still, is there not room for 
all in God's Church? And while the many seek in- 
structions from the lives of the St. Teresas and St. 
Francis de Sales,, the St. Catherines and St. Augustines, 
may not the few possibly find in these annals of one 
who was, as it were, one of themselves, only a purer, 
higher, better self, a comfort and encouragement in 
times of difficulty such as their spiritual needs require? 

Perhaps, too, this little sketch may succeed in reviv- 
ing in some hearts who knew her that influence, ever 



x INTRODUCTION. 

for good, which she exerted whilst on earth. And if, 
also, the smallest increase of the love of God be awak- 
ened in the heart of one of Christ's little ones whilst 
reading it, it will not have been written in vain; and 
for those who loved her it will be a comfort to think 
that her work on earth is not ended, and that " being 
dead, she speaketh." 




CLARE VAUGHAN. 



CHAPTEE I. 

CLARE VAUGHAN was born in the year 1843. 
The first years of her life were spent at her father's 
residence on the banks of the River Wye. Her first 
recollections, therefore, were of scenes of great natural 
beauty : the river which ran at the foot of the hill, at 
ten minutes' distance from the house ; the meadows, 
where one waded ankle deep, in the spring, through 
cowslips ; the great elms and limes — 

11 A summer home of murmurous wings," 

and added to this all the charm of innocent country 
amusements, such as make a different being of a 
country child from a town one. The frantic delight in 
the daily games of hide-and-seek among the bushes, 
when the lessons were over, the bird-nesting, the happy 
scrambling existence altogether, which made life a per- 
petual feast, and which asked nothing of the outer 
world but that it should leave it to itself. Such was 
Clare's life, from the time she could remember anything 
to the time she was ten years old. Her golden age, 
and long afterwards, when nothing remained but a 
"memory and a hope/' her greatest happiness was to 
talk of those wonderful days of magic happiness (for so 



6 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

it seemed to her in comparison with the trials that suc- 
ceeded it), and of the sainted mother who used to talk 
to them so beautifully and so enthusiastically of God 
and His service, and of the unutterable happiness of 
leaving all to follow Him. Of this dear mother, Clare 
was never tired of talking. She was the central figure 
of that happy group, and more than all the world to 
each one of them. 

Nothing that could be said of Clare would have any 
completeness unless it spoke also of her mother. Her 
mother's beautiful soul reflected itself on Clare's as in 
a faithful mirror. All Clare's likes and dislikes, which 
were enthusiastic, vehement — as it was in her nature to 
be about everything, — were learnt at her mother's 
knee ; and time, which strengthens strong things, 
though it effaces weak ones, took nothing from this holy 
and powerful influence — rather adding to it, — so that 
to the end it remained the paramount one of her life. 

To the blessing of a holy mother Clare joined that of 
an excellent Christian father. It is not too much to 
say of both, that their one object in life was to bring 
np their children in the love and fear of God. Worldly 
ideas and maxims were far from their lips, and the se- 
cluded life they led enabled them to give up a great 
part of their time to their children. As to Mrs. 
Vaughan, she never ceased from putting before them 
the joys and attractions of a holy life, and especially of 
religious vocation. As her children grew up, at the 
time when parents are generally occupied in plans for 
their advancement in life, hers were only directed to 
their getting a higher place in the kingdom of Heaven. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 7 

Fur from having that natural desire of most parents, of 
seeing their children marry and settle in life in order 
to perpetuate their name (in this case an old and hon- 
ored one), her only wish was that all her children- 
sons and daughters— should become priests and nuns. 
She used to say that she did not wish to give less than 
all to Him who had given all to her. She never 
wearied of reminding them that gifts and talents of all 
sorts were only given to them to be made use of for 
God, and used often to recall their thoughts to the 
presence of God, and to the duty of sanctifying all their 
actions by offering them to His greater honor and glory. 
Mrs. Vaughan had a great talent for drawing, and in 
her younger days used to delight her friends with her 
portraits and caricatures. As she advanced in holiness 
her tender conscience dreaded a possible breach of 
charity to her neighbor. She felt it was impossible to 
exercise it without sometimes hurting the feelings of 
others ; so gradually she gave it up, and in the last few 
years of her short life it was almost impossible to per- 
suade her to indulge a taste which in her youth had 
been almost a passion. 

Her growth in mortification and detachment in those 
latter days was marked ; every day she spent hours wrapt 
in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. Her children 
seeing her there absorbed in God, carried away an im- 
pression never to be obliterated, and which in after 
years bore powerful fruit for God in their lives. 

Besides these recollections of her, her children had 
others, beautiful and ineffaceable. She knew how to 
make herself all in all to them, joining in their games 



8 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

and amusements, reading poetry with them, and singing 
to them. 

How willingly we would linger upon those bright 
days, the brightest of Clare's life, the little taste of hap- 
piness without which no one's life seems, or perhaps is, 
complete ! The end, however, was near. Who is it 
that has said that upon all earthly things are written 
the words, " passing away" ? And so it was with that 
happy, united circle. We have already spoken of her — 
the mother — and of what she was to her children ; of 
her hidden life with God we cannot speak, but those 
who knew her best recognized, talking of those days, 
that she was, in the truest sense of the word, ripe for 
Heaven. Indeed, an intimate friend, who had the op- 
portunity of being thoroughly acquainted with her spir- 
itual life, said afterwards that he had seen her so vis- 
ibly increasing in sanctity and detatchment during the 
last few months of her life, that he almost wondered 
that no dim fear or suspicion had come over him of 
what was at hand. Her children, however, naturally 
knew nothing of this, and the blow, when it came, 
found them totally unprepared. 

It was in the winter of the year 1853. One day they 
were told that they had another brother. Later on they 
flocked in — as they had always done — to their mother's 
room, as happy and noisy as usual. Mrs. Vaughan, 
after talking and listening to them for a while, had 
complained of fatigue. They were sent away, and at 
first she tried with a faithful friend, who was watching 
by her, to say Vespers and Compline. Had she come 
to the Nunc Dimittis, touching finale after the day's 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 9 

efforts, and in her case so strikingly appropriate? We 
are not told; but we know that after a time ever-increas- 
ing pain warned those who were with her that danger 
was to be apprehended, and after a very short period of 
suspense they knew that all hope had vanished. A few 
short hours more and, praying fervently to the last, her 
beautiful soul went home. For her, indeed, there was 
an Eternal Home, but for some at least whom she left 
behind, earth could never more be anything but a 
place of exile. Their home was with her. Thank God ! 
we can think of them now as re-united in the blissful 
enjoyment of the Beatific Vision for evermore. 

We hardly dare to picture to ourselves the scene 
which followed in that desolate house. The father, al- 
most beside himself with agony, going into the school- 
room where his children were assembled praying, and 
telling them they had no mother. Thus suddenly were 
they called upon to practise heroic virtue, which till 
then they only knew in name. 

Jean Paul Kichter says that " with our first act of 
self-renunciation life begins." We may accordingly 
date a new epoch in Clare's life from this moment. 
Till then all life had smiled upon her; she was now to 
learn something of its frowns. Not that she had no 
troubles till that time, for what child of a sensitive 
temperament (which hers was essentially by nature) has 
not had something to bear long before she is ten years 
of age, and what sorrows are harder to bear for the mo- 
ment than children's ? But till then she had always 
been sure of sympathy; she had always her mother to 
go to. Now she had to learn to stand alone. We shall 



10 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

see by what means she contrived to do so. Very soon 
after this overwhelming loss, another, small indeed by 
comparison with the first, and yet of great consequence 
to all her after-life, occurred. They were no longer to 
live at Courtfield. Their home, with all its beautiful 
memories, was to become itself a memory; and though 
they were thus spared the pang of seeing the same round 
of duties coming and returning, the same rooms and 
spots occupied by the same people though emptied of 
that beloved presence for evermore, yet this entire sev- 
erance from the place they cared most for in the world 
was not without its anguish as well. It had, however, 
one salutary effect: it prevented all that morbid cling- 
ing to the outward garments and show of sorrow which 
so often remains long after the soul, as it were, is gone. 
And of this feeling, which has no religion in it, Clare 
was always singularly devoid. She never nursed her 
grief; it was present with her to the last day of her life, 
as a loss which she never could get over, as love which 
she never could replace; but this was not from habit, 
but because her mother really was everything to her, 
humanly speaking, and she kept this place in her af- 
fections to the last. And the impression, instead of 
getting fainter as her life declined, on the contrary — as 
she was once heard to say, appeared to strengthen as 
the time of their reunion drew near; as we may have 
noticed that features of an absent face, when we know 
we are going to see it again very soon, seem all at once 
to brighten in our recollection of them, as if the ap- 
proaching form had rubbed from our memories some- 
thing of the dust which time had collected on it. It 



CLARE VAVGHAN. 11 

was the one earthly tie she clung to, to the last; and it 
is on this account that we dwell upon it at such length 
in this early chapter of her life, because it was in sober 
truth the key-note to her life, the raison d'etre of a great 
deal which otherwise might appear exaggerated and un- 
real. 

The day of their departure from Courtfield was set- 
tled. They took their last look at the chapel where 
they had first prayed by their mother's side; of the room 
where they had seen her for the last time; of all the be- 
loved spots endeared to them by a thousand recollec- 
tions; and with intelligences sharpened beyond their 
years by the sudden agony of sorrow, " the valley of 
the shadow of death/' through which they had so 
lately passed, they took their last look at Courtfield. 
For Clare it was the last she was ever to take of her 
home. She never saw Courtfield again. The uprooting 
was accomplished. She was nevermore to have a home 
except where the Blessed Sacrament was. There, was 
to be henceforward her only resting-place. He, who 
said that He would not always leave us orphans, now 
possessed her whole heart. She had already, on mak- 
ing her First Communion, inspired by the grace of God 
and her mother's prayers, offered herself to be His 
spouse if He would have her, and now He came to her, 
bearing the Cross, and she was to feel what it was that 
He, whom she called Lord and Master, expected from 
her. 

The first place Clare and her brothers and sisters set- 
tled at, after leaving Courtfield, was Boulogne, where 
they remained nearly three years, — three dreary years 



12 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

taken up by the monotonous round of schoolroom du- 
ties, and diversified only by the daily constitutional on 
the ramparts, or an occasional excursion into the neigh- 
boring country. Clare never talked of this period of 
her life without a shudder. There was nothing for her 
to look forward to, nothing for her to hope for. She 
was very fond of reading; but they had taken very few 
books abroad with them, and it was difficult to procure 
others by English writers in a foreign country, so that 
she could not even have resource to that almost sovereign 
remedy against grief and ennui. For French books, 
especially French story-books, composed expressly for 
the class ingenue, she had not much appreciation, and 
though she had some favorite authors in the religious 
world, and later on was to have unbounded admiration 
for the works of some of the great French ascetic writ- 
ers, her tastes at that time were not sufficiently devel- 
oped to allow her to appreciate these, or to find in them 
that stimulus which would have helped to lift her out 
of the dull, featureless existence which she now led. 

One source of excitement the Vaughan family had, 
however, and Clare with them, in common with the 
whole of Europe. It was the time of the Crimean war, 
and outside their quiet household all was wildest ex- 
citement, continual reports contradicted as soon as 
spread, panics and rejoicings, — in fine, all the gay pag- 
eant on the one hand, and killing anxiety on the other, 
which makes war paramount, for the moment, over ev- 
ery other topic of interest. The reason of their sharing 
so deeply in the common interest lay in their father. 
He had gone to the seat of war, and though not joining 



CLARE VA UGHAN. 13 

in the actual conflict, was yet exposed to considerable 
personal danger; and in his letters, and the newspapers 
in which they read of the scenes which were actually 
passing before his eyes, lay the whole outer interest of 
their lives. 

After they had been living more than two years and 
a half at Boulogne an event occurred which served, for 
a time at least, to break the routine of Clare's most 
monotonous life, and became a fruitful topic of conver- 
sation for some time afterwards. 

The Weld Blundells, a family nearly related to them 
by ties of blood, and from that time still more nearly 
by those of friendship, were passing through Boulogne. 

Clare and one of her sisters had not long recovered 
from scarlet fever; her cousins not having had it, a 
strict quarantine was kept, as far as actual contact was 
concerned, though they were allowed to meet and talk as 
much as they liked in the open air. The acquaintance 
then formed between Clare and one of her cousins ri- 
pened into a friendship which lasted for both their 
lives, and gave rise to a correspondence of which ample 
use will be made later. 

In the following spring, 1856, Clare and her brothers 
and sisters returned to England, and Courtfield being 
shut up — Colonel Vaughan findiug it impossible to 
make up his mind to return to the scenes of his past 
happiness, — a house was taken for them in London, in 
the neighborhood of the Oratory, and later, one in 
Montague Square, and there they remained for some 
years. Great was the joy of the Vaughan family at re- 
turning to their own country. There, at least, they were 



14 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

sure of seeing their two elder brothers, one of whom 
was a secular priest, and the other a Benedictine monk;* 
and to Clare, in addition to the general cause of rejoic- 
ing, there was the special one that she was now within 
reach of her beloved books, her father having, whilst 
dismantling Courtfield, taken most of his library to 
London. With her books and the occasional visits of 
friends, some of whom dated from the happy days now 
for ever gone, Clare was, comparatively speaking, happy. 
What was more to her, though, than books or friends, 
was the neighborhood of the Oratory. There, absorbed 
in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, she used to 
go and spend all the time allowed to her by her govern- 
ess, and which could be spared from her studies and 
the other duties of her life. In the first letter we have of 

hers, which is addressed to the friend N , of whom we 

have already spoken, she alludes to it. It is dated July, 
1857. After answering some question which has been 
addressed to her by her correspondents, she continues: 

" But, dear N , the Blessed Sacrament will teach 

you everything. Do not forget me when you go before 
His Most Holy Presence. Try to let nothing content 
you but God alone. You were created but to love Him 
— give Him then your whole heart. He is so beautiful, 
so worthy of our wretched love, and yet He asks for our 
love, for our hearts — and how many refuse Him? Pray 
to the Blessed Virgin to help you; you know what a 
loving Mother she is. Pray to her to teach you how to 
suffer little crosses and annoyances for the love of her 

* The first is the Bishop of Salford, the second the late Archbishop 
of Sydney, N. S. W. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 15 

dying Son; how to meditate on His sufferings, as she 
did under the cross; and how to despise all but God and 
what is for His glory." 

She adds, a little later on: 

" I don't half like sending you this letter, for I am 
afraid you will think it too much of a sermon." 

In the course of this year, 1857, another sacrifice was 
asked of Clare — her eldest sister, Gladys, went to be 
a nun. Gladys was one of those holy souls who had 
grown up in the shadow of her retired home as in the 
" closed garden " of which the Spouse of the Canticle 
speaks. Known only to a very few,, she was to them as 
"the sweet odor of Christ," attracting souls to the 
service of her divine Master. Cardinal Wiseman, 
speaking of her to a friend, said he was always put in 
mind by her beauty and innocence, when he saw her, of 
what Eve must have been before the fall. She also, 
like Clare, had made up her mind, since her earliest 
years, to consecrate herself to God, and only waited till 
she should be old enough for the permission to be ac- 
corded to her of leaving all to follow Christ. Whilst 
living at Boulogne she had made acquaintance with the 
Community of Visitation Nuns at Marquetra. The 
sweet and loving spirit of St. Francis of Sales, which is 
so perfectly carried out and exemplified by the daugh- 
ters of St. Jane Frances Chantal, seemed exactly in- 
tended to meet the wants of this holy soul. She was 
professed in the year 1859, and died a most edifying 
death in the same convent in the year 1879. The fol- 
lowing lines were composed by her brother Roger when 
she went to be a nun: 



16 GLARE VAUGHAN. 

The child heard a voice of love 
Come from the throne above — 

" Child, give thy heart and thy soul unto Me ; 
Leave thy own fatherland, 
Leave that young happy band, 

So loved and so cherished from childhood by thee. 

" Friends that have loved thee, leave, 
Hearts that will throb and grieve, 

Souls that have thought thee their happiness here ; 
Leave, child, the well-known face, 
Break from the friend's embrace, 

Leave all on earth that thou h oldest most dear. 

" For I will thy portion be, 
Yes ! I will be loved by thee — 

I, who have bought thee by suffering, from hell ; 
Earth alone shalt thou fear, 
/alone will be dear, — 

Turn to Me, child, who have loved thee so well." 

To the voice that it wondering heard 
The child answered not a word, 

But near to its heart was this voice evermore. 
Each day as it hurried by, 
The same voice appeared to cry 

Louder, more plaintive, more sweet than before. 

And at length the child left its home, 
And it went o'er the ocean foam, 

To leave all it prized in the land of its birth, 
To join in its Saviour's love, 
To mingle with those above, 

Who come to adore their Creator on earth. 



OHAPTEE II. 

IT might be said of Clare that she had a special gen- 
ius for friendship. The power of attracting and 
influencing others was part of her character, and 
showed itself from her earliest years ; and as influence 
must be used for good or for evil, one is inclined to in- 
quire what use she made of this talent, — whether she 
buried it in the ground, or, like the good servant, 
traded with it for her Master's benefit. Holy friend- 
ships seem to bear a special mark of God's approval, 
and to have, as it were, the mark of His divine blessing 
on them. "We need not ransack our memories to call to 
mind the holy friendships of David and Jonathan, of St. 
Jerome and St. Paula, of St. Francis of Sales and St. 
Jane Chantal. These and a thousand others occur to us. 
But for friendships to be blessed, they must be made 
in God and for God ; and it was thus with Clare's. In 
her letters this is most strikingly exemplified. It never 
seems to occur to her that any other subject can be of 
equal interest or of any interest at all. Probably if any 
one had asked her the reason of her doing so, she would 
have answered, in her earnest, enthusiastic way, €C But 
what on earth else is there to write about ?" Indeed, 
these things occupied all her heart, and seemingly left 
no room for any others. If it was so in her correspond- 
ence, this was equally observable in her conversation. 
When conversation (with her intimate friends) turned 
on religious topics, her interest kindled, her face 

17 



18 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

glowed, all her mind and heart were in her words — in 
fact, her words could hardly come fast enough to give 
vent to all the thoughts that seemed to long to find ut- 
terance. This was especially the case when she talked 
of the love of Our Lord in remaining for ever with us 
in the Blessed Sacrament, and of His love for sinners. 
She was very fond of reading aloud, and w r as never so 
happy as when she had got one dear friend into a snug 
corner, and could then begin one of her favorite books, 
such as Dalgairns' "Book of the Sacred Heart," or Fa- 
ber's "Foot of the Cross," or the "Following of 
Christ," or perhaps some favorite book of poetry. Af- 
ter a time the book used to be dropped, and she would 
begin, in her fervent way, talking of the beauty of Heav- 
en, the goodness of God, and the joy of giving every- 
thing up for His sake. The only thing that ever re- 
strained her, or made her suddenly stop short, was the 
fear that she might be thought to be preaching too 
much ; then she used to break off in an agony, half hu- 
mility and half fun. The great Rosminrs words might 

have been present with her: "Talk much with ; 

do not spare words, for words are the great means em- 
ployed by Our Lord for instructing and animating men 
to good. In speaking of good things to others you will 
do good to your own soul, and become yourself more 
fervent in spirit. I take this thought from St. Augus- 
tine, who, in some part of his writings, says the same of 
himself." 

Among the friends of Clare's father, for whom she 
had a special admiration, was Digby, the well-known 
writer of the Mores Catholici. She looked upon him 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 19 

as a sort of type of the Christian writer, a kind of chev- 
alier sans pear et sans reproche of literature, and used 
to wade with the utmost perseverance through his sol- 
emn tomes. Another great writer, Dr. Ward, as well 
as his wife and daughter, were among her special 
friends, and some of the very few happy months — hap- 
py because they were spent in exquisite scenes of nature 
which she loved — were passed at their place in the Isle 
of Wight. 

It was on one of these visits that an adventure hap- 
pened of so striking a nature that it must not be omit- 
ted from this sketch of her life. On one occasion she 
and her friend were taking a long ramble together by 
the edge of the sea. Enrapt in their conversation, and 
not paying particular attention to where they were go- 
ing, they suddenly discovered that they had wandered 
on to an extremely dangerous quicksand, and before 
they had time to retrace their steps they were up to 
their waists in it. To cry for help was vain — not a soul 
could be seen on the solitary beach ; there was no help 
in sight, either by land or sea. In this agonizing ex- 
tremity, a ghastly death almost within sight, Clare, 
seizing hold of a medal and scapular she wore, implored 
with the greatest fervor the help of Our Blessed Lady. 
Without being able to explain how it happened, she at 
once felt her feet on terra firma, and was able to rush 
off for assistance to the nearest cottage. So deeply was 
her friend imbedded in the treacherous mud that it was 
with great difficulty and some personal risk that her 
life was saved. Clare's acquaintance with Dr. Ward 
was of great use to her in many ways. He took the 



20 CLARE V AUG HAN. 

greatest interest in her theological studies, used to ex- 
plain difficult passages to her, and recommend her what 
books to read. He also, in the course of one long visit 
which she paid in the spring of the year 1859, gave her 
lessons in Latin, which were of the greatest use to her 
afterwards. 

In the following summer there was a plan mooted of 
her going to Ince Blundell, to spend a month with her 
uncle. She alludes to this in a letter she writes to 
N" . Apparently for the moment it was in abeyance. 

" I thank you for your letter this morning. I never 
expected to go to Ince; in my heart I never thought I 
should go. ... I want most awfully to read ' Lara ' to 
you. It is so beautifully written; such an intensity of 
feeling and passion in it, and consequently so melan- 
choly. I did not know I might read it till a few days 
ago. The worst of such books is that there is danger 
of their becoming too engrossing. I wonder if you will 
be surprised to hear that I am very fond of St. Philip. 
The great reason, I think, is that I have an intense de- 
votion to the third Person of the Blessed Trinity, the 
Holy Ghost. St. Philip had a marvellous devotion to 
Him, and the Holy Ghost worked wonders in St. Phil- 
ip .. . X has actually gone off to Spain on purpose 

to see the eclipse there. Is it not extraordinary? I 
can't understand how anyone who has given himself to 
God could take such interest in anything except what 
was for God's greater glory.* But we must not judge 
him, and perhaps I am wrong in saying this about 

* It must be remembered that Clare was only seventeen when she 
•made this rather severe criticism. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 21 

him. I hope you have as much devotion as you used to 
have to the Sacred Heart. Do you remember two years 
ago? . . . Let us ask St. Clare that we may never leave 
it, and that she may intercede and bring us nearer to it 
every day. Time passes so swiftly — may it bring us 
nearer and nearer to God. Alas! what a subject of hu- 
miliation it is to think how few actions we do merely 
and entirely from the love of God, with what mixed 
motives we do even our good actions! So let us ask St. 
Francis to obtain for us a great purity of heart; then 
will come purity of thought, purity of action; then in- 
deed all things will be done purely for God's glory and 
His love. I very seldom write to any one, not only be- 
cause I have no time, but because I think, as Father Fa- 
ber says, letter-writing is such a great destroyer of spir- 
ituality. Of course this does not refer to when I write 
to you, as we generally speak about spiritual things, 
and it is far the most interesting subject, after all. I 
wonder where we shall meet again? I envy you those 
evenings you talk of at Ince when you go out of doors. 
I think Nature is never so beautiful as then; all is so 
calm and peaceful, the beauty and silence of it all 
comes over one like a dream. ' Nature always looks 
most pleased with herself in the evening/ Write soon. 
I send my best love to Maymie and Tizzie." 



CHAPTER III. 

Claee's prognostications were not fulfilled; and a 
month later, early in August, she started with her 
father for Ince Blundell. This visit is thus described 

by Clare's friend N , to whom most of her letters 

were written, and who takes the account entirely from 
a journal kept by her at the time of her friend's visit to 
Ince Blundell: 

" How well I remember her visit to Ince Blundell! 
We had been expecting Uncle John, but had no idea he 
was going to bring Clare with him, till two days before, 
when he wrote to announce it. The news seemed al- 
most too good to be true. What plans we made! What 
excursions we were going to undertake together! All 
the old jokes were to be revived; there was nothing in 
the old times, already nearly three years old — an eterni- 
ty in those days — which was not going to be repeated 
with variations. In fact, there was no end to the castles 
in the air; and through it all there was the odd sensa- 
tion — perhaps misgiving, — shall we find each other 
changed? Shall we be all that we were to each other? 
and a thousand other vague feelings one can hardly give 
a name to. At last the day arrived. How well I re- 
member the very room we were sitting in, the time of 
day, and, at last, Clare's arrival! When the general ex- 
citement had subsided a little, we went up together to 
show her her room, — the room close to mine, where we 
were to be so happy together. Then, for the first time, 
we began to talk, and I to take a good look at her. As 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 23 

she was then I shall remember her all my life — exactly as 
she stood in her brown dress, a dress which meant nothing, 
as was the nature of all Clare's gowns, but was merely the 
simplest of coverings to a body which looked already 
less body than soul. Clare was then seventeen and a 
half, that is to say, what it is the fashion to call 'out/ 
launched into society ; but nothing could look less like 
a young lady prepared to take that desperate plunge 
than the slight girlish figure which I see so plainly be- 
fore me when I shut my eyes and call back that beloved 
past. I remember the first impression was, ' How beau- 
tiful she is! how much better looking than I expected 
to find her! ' I suppose it was the flush of excitement 
of arriving which for a moment gave her ordinarily pale 
cheeks a slight momentary flush, and added to the lus- 
tre of her deep brown eyes. It was indeed a face which 
nobody having once seen would quickly forget; not on 
account of the regularity of features, but because of the 
ever-varying expression, which changed a hundred 
times in the course of a minute, and which lent it a 
matchless charm, her eyes especially dilating with in- 
terest when any deed of heroism was spoken of, or rip- 
pling with brightest laughter when anything amused her. 
There Avas nothing of the austere devotee about her, in 
her face or expression, any more than in her character. 
If there was any harshness about her it only displayed 
itself, or rather was wreaked upon her own delicate 
frame, which in her moments of glee she used to amuse 
herself by calling every sort of ridiculous and abusive 
name ; but to all around she was invariable in her gen- 
tleness and charity. To return to that memorable day. 



U GLARE VAUGHAN. 

How much we had to say to each other, and as in all 
friendships after absence — because nobody, however sin- 
cere, can exactly express their very selves in a letter — 
how much there was to learn about each other ! And 
then I discovered that what I vaguely suspected had 
indeed taken place. We had parted the greatest 
friends, almost equals ; but now I saw she was not only 
miles ahead of me in every way, but she was in a dif- 
ferent hemisphere. It made no difference to our 
friendship, rather it deepened it, but henceforth it was 
as that of the master and his disciple. The next few 
days I count amongst the most perfectly happy of my 
life. Little by little I drew from her the history of 
her life in the interval since we parted ; but it was not 
so much in the meagre detail of a life which had been 
so peculiarly uneventful, spent almost entirely within 
four walls, but in the tone of her mind, in the way she 
treated every subject, in her plans for the future, that 
I discovered how entirely God had taken possession of 
a heart in which He was now First and Only. I must 
acknowledge that it was not without a desperate pang 
that I found out, first in one way, then in another, 
how Clare had become indifferent to, or had gradually 
detached herself from pleasures innocent, indeed, but 
still not wholly for God or of God — pleasures to which 
I clung with all my human heart. I remember at last 
frantically reproaching her with caring for nothing on 
earth, for giving up a thousand things which she had 
once held dear. Our life together had been such a de- 
lightful one, so full of impossible but glorious dreams, 
so full, so complete. But it was not to be. Clare had 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 25 

passed by these, but she had not stopped, and was now 
beginning that painful, terrible ascent in which the de- 
vout soul, supported by her Divine Spouse, follows again 
with Him the road to Calvary, and which ended only 
with her death in the Convent of Amiens. There were 
times, however, when Clare was perfectly happy — nay, 
more, radiant and transformed, — and that was in the 
presence of the Blessed Sacrament. We used to go in 
the evening, when everybody was engaged, and there 
was least likelihood of interruption. She began always 
with a visit to the Altar of Our Lady, where she used 
to recite the Kosary of the Seven Dolors, — to get it over, 
she used to say laughingly. Not that she had not the 
very greatest devotion to Our Lady, but because she 
knew by experience that once she found herself at the 
feet of Our Lord in the Sacrament of His love, it was an 
absolute impossibility to her to tear herself away till it 
was time to leave altogether. This done, she used to 
go and prostrate herself at the steps of the sanctuary, 
and pour out her whole heart and soul aloud : for it 
was impossible for her to keep in or suppress what she 
felt of love, praise, or adoration of Him who was indeed 
her life, her love, her joy, her all in all. Never shall 
I forget the way she rejoiced in the Blessed Sacrament. 
It was as if it were something newly come to her with 
the joy of a great surprise ; something, or rather some 
one, of whom she had only just learnt all the delight 
and the charm. Truly she could say with the proph- 
et, ' The children of men shall put their trust under 
the covert of Thy wings ; they shall be inebriated with 
the plenty of Thy House, and Thou shalt make them 



26 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

drink of the torrent of Thy pleasure/ Our Lord 
seemed — in compensation, perhaps, for the dreariness 
and many sorrows of her life — to have given her a rapt- 
urous happiness and joy in His presence, such as one 
hardly likes to describe as vividly as one remembers it, 
for fear of its being misunderstood. Perhaps this su- 
pernatural joy in the Blessed Sacrament was only, or 
partly, the result (as Father Faber, in one of his books, 
tells us to expect it) of the continual mortifications 
and austerities she was in the habit of practising.* Her 
love of mortification was such that nothing she saw, or 
came across, failed to suggest some means of torturing 
or annoying her unfortunate body. How well I re- 
member one day, when we were returning from a village 
in the neighborhood, we happened to be passing through 
a stubble field, and breaking off suddenly from what 
she had been talking about, she cried, ' I have a splen- 
did idea ! Supposing we take off our shoes and stock- 
ings, and walk barefoot through the stubble field ?' 
It was no sooner said than done ; and I can see now 
the calm enjoyment with which Clare walked up and 
down those cruel many-bristling thorns (followed by 
the sympathetic shrieks of her cowardly companion, 
who very soon resumed shoes and stockings) till at last 
she was obliged to succumb and allow the poor bleeding 
feet to be tied up. Another day we came across a 
flourishing family of nettles, and she instantly seized 
hold of a large bunch in order to discipline herself with 
them at leisure on her return home. Another favorite 

* u Mortification, and especially bodily mortification, is the shortest 
way to cheerfulness and supernatural joy." — Spiritual Conf., p. 332. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 27 

mortification of hers was to wait, after she got into bed, 
till she was beginning to feel thoroughly warm and 
comfortable, and then springing out of bed to spend 
half-an-hour prostrate on the ground in prayer, often 
with arms extended, in order to add the discomfort of 
the posture to the other mortifications. On Thurs- 
days, she used constantly to prolong this prayer till far 
into the night, in union with the prayer of Our Lord in 
the Garden. This she did with the special intention of 
assisting souls in their agony; indeed, it was for this, 
and for another which was equally dear to her — the con- 
version of sinners, — that all her actions were offered up. 
She had the tenderest love and devotion to the Holy 
Souls, but she used to say she knew they were all right; 
and so though they were continually remembered in 
her prayers, yet the other seemed to be the motive 
which was most constantly present with her, and was 
ever spurring her on to fresh exertions. It was not, 
however, in exterior mortification, only that Clare 
eclipsed everybody that I ever saw or knew. She was 
much too well versed in the science of the Saints not to 
know that if God is pleased with the self-inflicted suf- 
ferings of souls united to Him in love and desire of ex- 
piation, He is still more pleased with those interior 
mortifications which attack the very seat and origin of 
evil within us, and enable us, by His grace, to become 
triumphant masters, not only of our flesh (as in the 
case of exterior mortification), but of our very wills and 
souls. Clare was naturally of an indolent disposition. 
The Southern blood in her veins, which showed too 
clearly in her face, was also strongly marked in her 



28 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

disposition. With this characteristic she had another, 
and this was that she was by nature what the French 
would call d'un caractere vif — quick, easily roused, I 
cannot say to anger, as nobody that ever saw Clare, 
though they might have seen the blood rising quickly 
to her cheek, could ever have seen more, unless in 
those cases in which we are told we may be angry and 
sin not. Still the grace of God enabled her to over- 
come so perfectly these weaknesses, that nobody who 
knew her, especially in those days of which I am speak- 
ing, would ever have suspected their existence. One 
means she had discovered, both of mortifying herself 
interiorly and of curing herself of defects whose mag- 
nitude she was ever exaggerating, was that of holding 
a Chapter, or, in other words, imitating the religious 
observance common to a great many Orders of making 
a public confession of faults.* How well I remember 
the satisfaction she used to take in unearthing and, as 
it were, running to ground all those little weaknesses 
into which even the best amongst us sometimes fall, 
but which it is one of the chief objects of life with most, 
having committed them, to conceal from the eyes of 
others. In this case what made her humility even 
more striking was that her elected Father Confessor 
was much younger than herself, and naturally inclined, 
as she must have been perfectly aware, to make a hero- 
ine of her, so that she had all the greater merit in 
humbling herself before him. I feel it would give a 
very false idea of Clare, as she was at this period of her 

* Public, in the sense of not being made to a confessor, or under 
the seal of confession. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 29 

life, if one represented her simply as saying her pray- 
ers all day, and spending her time in trampling her na- 
ture under foot. Besides this side of her character she 
had another very human, bright, and lovable one. She 
used at times to have what she called her " lazy days/' 
when she used to get hold of some exciting book, and 
sit curled up on a sofa half the day reading it — perfect- 
ly happy if she got one or two others she cared for to 
share the pleasure by reading it with them. Books, 
like every other occupation, lost half their interest to 
her if she could not talk them over with her friends, 
and share the interest with them. In this manner I re- 
member we got through c Uncle Tom's Cabin ' in half- 
a-dozen summer days. She loved talking about books 
and authors, in fact, her tastes were thoroughly literary. 
One of her heroines in that way was Madame de Stael. 
She used always to lament so that a woman of such tal- 
ents, with such convincing power of language, and, 
above all, so enthusiastic for everything great and ele- 
vated, should not have been a Catholic. She was very 
fond of quoting that wonderful saying of her's, e Le 
mystere de Vexistence c'est le rapport entre nos erreurs 
et nos peines' At last Clare's visit drew to a close. A 
few days before she was to leave everybody happened to 
be dining out, and we had — rare occurrence — the whole 
house to ourselves. 1 remember this prospect of an 
uninterrupted tete-a-tete was one we thoroughly en- 
joyed. We discussed how we should spend it; whether 
we should sit out in the garden or spend it over our 
books, when Clare suggested, ' Supposing we assemble 
all the servants in the schoolroom; first we will have 



30 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

the Rosary before the statue of Our Lady, then I will 
speak to them about the love of God for sinners, etc.' 
I shall always regret that with truly British mauvaise 
honte I implored her to give up this wild (for so it 
seemed to me) idea. I can now see Clare's face, with 
its bright, earnest look as she answered my objections. 
< How it would be so easy — quite impossible to break 
down, etc/ A few days after and Clare left Ince. We 
never met again. " 




CHAPTEE IV. 

About this date (the autumn of 1860) a fresh phase, 
or rather we might say, a further development, of 
Clare's spiritual life seems to have taken place. We 
have seen with what fervor she had given herself up to 
the service of God — heart, soul, desires, words, — there 
was nothing she kept back. Yet, as He condescends to 
call Himself a jealous God, He continued to ask for 
more; and this holy soul, responding to the voice of her 
Divine Spouse, gave more, and yet more. 

To those who knew her well this change was very ap- 
parent. Her whole being seemed to grow in the hands 
of God. Till now she had been a child with the weak- 
ness of a child — its impulses and its impetuosities, its 
likes and its dislikes, — but in the year that followed (the 
most important year of a girl's life, that between seven- 
teen and eighteen) all these characteristics of childhood 
gave way before a higher, holier state of being. Like 
the valiant woman of the Bible, " She had put out her 
hand to strong things, her fingers had taken hold of the 
spindle." Each day she appeared to make fresh pro- 
gress in virtue. She was never tired of repeating the 
beautiful words of St. Francis, " Let us begin to serve the 
Lord our God, for hitherto we have made very little 
progress." And these words so constantly on her lips, 
and even more deeply implanted in her heart, were ever 
urging her on to fresh efforts in His service. 

31 



32 CLARE VA UGHAN. 

She felt that God was calling her to higher things; 
and with the whole fervor of her soul she responded, 
turning, as it were, towards Him, and renouncing for 
His sake her dearest affections — mortifying each 
thought, and will, and inclination, and rejoicing with 
the greatest ardor at suffering something for His sake. 

Everything now appeared to pall upon her which was 
not for God and for Him alone. Till now she had 
always taken the greatest pleasure in reading; poetry es- 
pecially was her delight, and it had been the one recrea- 
tion which she had allowed herself, and she had in- 
dulged in it freely. But the time had come when she 
felt herself called upon to renounce even this. Little by 
little she gave up everything in the shape of profane 
literature. Shelley, Byron, all the poets she had taken 
greatest delight in, and who, by their glowing words 
and lively descriptions, appealed in a special manner to 
an ardent soul like hers — which was by nature so keen- 
ly alive to everything melancholy, wild, or heroic — all 
were given up. That page of her life was closed. She 
felt these things did not lead her to God. Her studies 
were now of another nature, and with her accustomed en- 
ergy she threw herself into the study of what has been 
well called, the science of the saints. She had always 
been a great reader of lives of saints, and other spiritual 
works, and from a child had been familiar with the 
works of Rodrigues, St. Francis of Sales, Faber, New- 
man, and innumerable other holy writers; and it was to 
these she turned now for that spiritual nourishment 
which her soul required. In her letters (of which a good 
many have been preserved, written about this time) con- 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 33 

stant mention is made of the books she has been,. or is, 
reading. In one place she writes: 

" You should read St. Ignatius's ' Spiritual Exercises/ 
It is a most glorious work — meditations they are by St. 
Ignatius. It was that book which he took so many 
years in compiling, which made St. Ignatius such a 
wonderful saint; in fact, it made all the Jesuit saints. 
And there is another magnificent book I am very fond 
of also, called e Spiritual Doctrine/ by Lallemant. It 
is most suggestive, and meant for those who aim high/' 

Another great interest of hers at this time was the 
study of Latin, which she had already begun the pre- 
vious year. She had, as we have seen, long made up her 
mind to join the Poor Clares, by whom she knew the 
Divine Office was daily recited; she therefore longed to 
prepare herself for this great privilege by becoming ac- 
quainted with the language of the Church (in which it 
is always said), so as to enter more completely into the 
spirit and meaning of the holy words. 

But if we thus enter into detail about the interests 
and occupation of her leisure moments, it is only to 
throw greater light upon what we may call the inner 
purpose and meaning of Clare's life. This was her love 
of prayer— or in other words, her union with God. 
Prayer was the occupation of her life, or as her sister 
described it in a little sketch which was written at the 
request of the Community at Amiens, it was " the 
breath of her soul/' Study, spiritual lectures, all else 
were but as oil to the flame which, as a faithful virgin, 
she burnt day and night before her Beloved. Her 
prayers might be said to be continual; whenever she 



34 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

could, she escaped from the house to go and spend hours 
before the Blessed Sacrament, there to kneel entranced 
in the presence of Him who remains forever a victim of 
love upon our altars. The smaller, the poorer, the 
more neglected the chapel, the better; Jesus was there 
— it was enough. What she loved best was to kneel 
among the poor at the bottom of the chapel, too glad 
if she were mistaken for one of those favored children 
of the Lord. If by any accident the church door was 
locked, it was the greatest happiness to her to kneel on 
the steps of the entrance. There, w 7 ith her head lean- 
ing against the door, which alone separated her from 
the dwelling of her only love, she would (as her sisters 
witnessed) pour forth her soul in passionate love and 
praise of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, and before 
turning to go away would tenderly kiss the door which 
separated her from Him. 

No one who had ever seen her receiving Holy Com- 
munion would ever forget the sight. After returning 
to her place she remained absolutely absorbed in God ; 
she was insensible to any outside sight or distraction. 
Truly, in looking at her, one might be reminded of the 
verse in the Canticle, " My Beloved to me and I to 
Him who feedeth among the lilies." To quote again 
from the same life: 

"Nothing could interrupt her union with God, or 
her exercises of piety (not even the headaches she suf- 
fered from, which were sometimes so violent as to cause 
involuntary tears to stream from her eyes); often, after 
her bedtime, she would spend long hours kneeling at 
the foot of her bed, and very often her prayers were 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 35 

prolonged far into the night. One night I happened to 
awake, and heard the clock strike twelve ; Clare was still 
in the midst of her prayers, and showed no signs of con- 
cluding them. i Do get up/ I said to her; ' it is quite 
time for you to get some rest; it is late, and in the morn- 
ing you will be worn out/ ' Do you think so? ' she said; 
( I thought I had just begun, I did not know it was late/ 
Often when awaking at night she would return without 
effort to her prayers, as a person, obliged for a moment 
to leave her work, goes back naturally to resume it when 
the interruption is over . . . What shall I say to you, Rev- 
erend Mother, of her love for the Blessed Sacrament ? 
It was, as you well know, her life's occupation, or rather 
her life itself . . . She would never pass over the small- 
est irreverence committed in the presence of the Blessed 
Sacrament by either her brothers or sisters, yet there was 
no bitterness in this holy zeal, alienating while it wounds. 
As Jesus Christ deigns to become a Victim for the love 
of us in the Blessed Sacrament, and she also aspired to 
the same title, it would be impossible for me to say to 
what length her spirit of penance and the practice of 
voluntary mortifications led her. Besides the use of the 
hair-shirt, with which she was familiar, she was accus- 
tomed to rub herself with nettles ; and on several occa- 
sions when walking in the country she took off shoes 
and stockings and walked barefoot among the briars and 
thorns, and on another occasion in a stubble field, where 
the corn was newly cut. She used always to say her 
greatest misery was having to eat ; and she would often, 
if she could, put away the food that was sent up for her 
meals in order to give it away to the poor/' 



36 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

In Clare's letters she makes continual allusion to the 
comfort and joy she derives from prayer, and is never 
tired — always in the gentlest and humblest fashion — of 
recommending the practice of it to her correspondents. 
In a letter written about this time to a dear friend, she 
says : 

" What a comfort that God is everywhere, and always 
ready to hear you and comfort you wherever you are ; 
and that when no one understands you, and when your 
real secret heart is undisclosed to anyone, He always 
understands, and in every difficulty will never fail you! 
I should fancy that ejaculatory prayer would be a great 
help to you. Years ago Herbert advised me to practice 
the habit of ejaculatory prayer. Make a resolution 
when you rise in the morning to offer up your heart to 
God five times during the day, and then in the evening 
examine yourself if you have done so, and if you perse- 
vere in this during the month, you have no idea how 
much good it will have done you — how it will give a 
spiritual tone to your whole mind, and how it will gain 
you the gift of the sense of God's continual Presence. 
I know it has done much for me. I hope and trust I do 
not appear to be preaching. I suppose you must often 
feel sick of the world, you must often feel that you crave 
for something greater, higher, to satisfy you, than what 
the world can offer you. What heroic creatures the 
saints were ; after all, they are the only true heroes the 
world has ever seen. I often think that there is perhaps 
an immense deal of stuff of which heroism is made in 
women's hearts, but that conventionalism, and its laws, 
crushes and beats it down." 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 3? 

Besides the practice of mental prayer, in which Clare 
was so great a proficient, there were certain vocal pray- 
ers to which she had the greatest devotion. She never 
failed to say the Rosary of Our Lady of Seven Dolors 
daily, and her love of the Souls in Purgatory found its 
vent in great devotion to Indulgenced Prayers. Chief 
among these was the Gloria Patri. She seemed speci- 
ally drawn to the use of this prayer, and was never tired 
of repeating it; and she used to love, when she found 
herself alone in the chapel, to say it with profound pros- 
tration at the holy Names, stopping a long time over 
each one. Another devotion she loved was that of say- 
ing the six Our Fathers, Hail Marys, and Glorias with 
her arms extended in the shape of a cross. This pray- 
er fulfilled both her fondest wishes by combining pray- 
er and penance. 




CHAPTER V. 

Clare's visit to Ince Blundell over, her life again re- 
sumed its usual routine. From that time to the 
following spring she only left London on two occasions 
to visit her friends in the country for a few days at a 
time. Her letters meanwhile give us a vivid insight 
into her inner history, ever of greater interest than the 
one known to the world at large — which in her case 
was singularly devoid of incident. The first letter we 
have of Clare's is dated within a few days of her return 

to London. It is to her friend N- -. 

" Who is with us? Benedicamus Domino.* I was 
delighted to receive your letter this morning. I don't 
think you can miss me more than I do you. Try and 
fight against your unfortunate dumps. It is a little 
trial and cross which our dear Lord sends you in order 
that you may offer it up to His Sacred Heart. Your 
very feeling of weariness, if you offer it up to His lov- 
ing Heart, will be the means of adding fresh jewels to 
your crown. How happy we were before the Blessed 
Sacrament a few days ago! I wish I was prostrate be- 
fore His altar now. Helas! — We arrived here yester- 
day evening at 10 o'clock; the whole time in the 
train I was reading the e Following of Christ ' you 
gave me, and meditating upon it . . . Please try for 

* Clare had made an agreement with her friend N that all her 

letters to her should begin with this greeting. The answer, of course, 

was, Deo Gratias. 

38 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 39 

my sake to be as cheerful as you can. Perhaps behind 
the clouds is the sun still shining. This is a sad world, 
is it not? It is sin which has made it so sad; and it is 
so made up of meetings and partings. Oh, how good 
God is in all this! Don't you see, dear, it is all be- 
cause He fears that we shall set too much value on this 
poor world? Adieu! My best love to Maymie. May 
God and His holy angels ever watch over you and pro- 
tect you and guard you. May you never leave the Sa- 
cred Heart, in which I am your loving cousin, 

" Clare." 

A few weeks later she writes again to the same cor- 
respondent: 

" It is raining so awfully, and the day looks so hope- 
lessly dreary that I think there is no chance of our tak- 
ing a walk, I therefore sit down to write you a long 

letter. I am sorry is suffering so much. I hear of 

her everywhere from everyone. I will pray for her, 
and will write her a letter to ask her to give me an ac- 
count of her dear self ... I hope you often pray for 
me when you are prostrate in the sanctuary before the 
Blessed Sacrament. Jesus should be our only joy and 
happiness here, as He will be our everlasting joy and 
happiness in our eternal home. I have finished the 
life of our sweet and angel Mother. It took more even 
than the book you gave me for it could contain; when 

you come here I will show it to you. Father 

preached such a beautiful sermon last Sunday. Has 
he written since I left Ince, to you? Uncle Dick is 
very fond of him, and says he is a very holy, spiritual 
man, and that we could not do better than trust him 



40 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

implicitly. We have not even yet given the treat to 
the children of the Home. What a pity you do not 
come in November! I shall never see you again, dear 

N . We must hope to see each other in Heaven, but 

we must work hard to get there. Heaven cannot be 
gained without a struggle, and we have each of us got 
our crosses to carry; and we must carry them with a 
cheerful heart, and embrace every trial as a means to a 
great end. I know you have many little trials to bear 
from others, and also from your own natural character 
and disposition. It is your very thoughtfulness of 
mind, etc., which makes you feel so low-spirited and 
weary. Fight against it as long as you live. Never 
give way to discouragement at anything. Courage, St. 
Teresa says, is necessary for a person who is striving at 
perfection; and when you feel lonely, and because I 
know often in the midst of many there is loneliness — 
loneliness of heart, of sympathy — offer that up to the 
Sacred Heart. He knows you, and sees to the very 
depth of your heart, because He is a Man-God. He 
can sympathize, He can console as no other can. But 
perhaps I am preaching too much, and am wearying 
you, which I should be so sorry to do. 1 liked very 
much your last letter, especially what you said about 
the sea. I am growing awfully fond of the true Cross! 
I wish it was mine! Pray very much for me that 
God's Holy Will may be done in all things. I will do 
the same for you. Have I not written you a long let- 
ter?" 

Shortly afterwards she writes again to the same 
friend: 



CLARE VAUGHAX. 41 

"I wrote you a long letter on All Saints, but had no 
time to finish it, and now I find it too stale to send you, 
so begin another at Maiden Erlegh, where I arrived 
yesterday evening. How kind of you to send me that 
MS., and how like your own dear self to send me any- 
thing at all! I thank you exceedingly for it, and shall 
prize it as a present from my dearest old cousin. I 
thank you also immensely for offering up Holy Commun- 
ion for me on the feast of All Saints. I did not forget 
you on that glorious Festa, and I asked the Father 
Francis and Mother Clare to take you specially under 
their protection. Surely they could not refuse any- 
thing to however unworthy the creature who asked 
them on that glorious day. How empty Purgatory 
must look after all the prayers yesterday! Let us every 
day during this month beg St. Francis and St. Clare 
to do all they can to get a soul out of Purgatory — say 
the soul most devoted to the Seven Dolors, and near- 
est its release. I will not forget to give you a portrait 
of my disgusting self, and I will willingly leave you my 
story. I am writing out, in a sort of MS., various 
things for you, viz., sayings from the saints and differ- 
ent prayers to St. Francis and St. Clare of my own 
composition, with a few more other prayers from the 
same quarter. I intend also copying some prayers 
which I think particularly beautiful. I hope you will 
care for them. I don't indeed deserve all you say 
about me in your letter. I often grieve that I have 
not been always as gentle and kind as I ought to have 
been towards you. What impatience have I not often 
shown in my conversation ! You remember, I dare say, 



42 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

to what I allude. I light the lamp here before the 
Blessed Sacrament. They have got such a delicious 
little chapel. I do indeed wish with you that we could 
hold a Chapter together as in days past. Was it not 
good fun, besides being improving to our souls! I am 
so delighted, enchanted, that you really think it is your 
vocation to be a poor Clare. Keep to it, and keep 
to it in the sanctuary of your heart. Speak only to 
God about it, and to Him Who holds the place of God. 
It is a great treasure which you must keep silently and 
lovingly until the time comes when I shall see you in 
our Mother's convent singing the praises of Him to 
Whom alone is honor and praise everlasting." 

Whilst Clare was staying with her friends at Maiden 
Erlegh, the following singular incident occurred. She 
was kneeling one day in the chapel, as usual, immersed 
in prayer, when she happened to lift her eyes to the al- 
tar. She had thought herself alone, and so was aston- 
ished to see a hand stretched from behind the taberna- 
cle and moving noiselessly among the flowers on each 
side of it. On looking further, she noticed that the 
hand was busily occupied in re-arranging the flowers, 
pulling out and rejecting those that were faded. Clare, 
on leaving the chapel, instantly asked Miss Plowden 
and her sisters if any of them had been behind the al- 
tar at the time, and was answered in the negative. 
They were thus forced to conclude that the singular 
appearance was sent to teach them the lesson that our 
Lord loves to see beauty and order reigning in His 
temple and in " the place where His glory dwelleth." 

A little later, she writes from the same place: 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 43 

" Now for a long letter to you in answer to yours of 

Tuesday. I will pray for indeed. I am so very 

sorry to hear such a bad account of her. You will be 
glad to hear Teresa's cough is better — that is, at least, 

what I hear from Montague Square. Now dear N , 

I will get your letter from the depths of my pocket, and 
will answer your questions by giving you my humble 
opinion. First, do not worry and trouble yourself about 
the doubts you speak of on the subject of your religious 
vocation. I can't say whether you have one or not, God 
only knows ; but pray earnestly and humbly to God to 
show you His will in regard to your future state. Nev- 
er omit this prayer — let it be your daily prayer. These 
doubts of yours may, or may not, be temptations. If 
they are temptations, don't flatter the devil by bothering 
yourself about them. After all, the great thing you 
have to look to is to do God's will in your present state of 
life. Don't trouble yourself so much about the future. 
Your path is plainly marked out for you for some years. 
Your work is to be obedient, patient, humble, and gen- 
tle to all, and to keep as much as you can in God's 
presence. If you do all this, God will reward you by 
showing you His will about your state of life. That 
state of life which you think will help you best to Heav- 
en — that state of life is yours. What do you think ? 
Will a vocation in the world help you best to love God, 
and obtain your end — Heaven, or a vocation to Relig- 
ion ? /think that this latter life will be best for you, 
when you tell me that when you enter society and speak 
of worldly things you care less for God. Often ask 
yourself, ' Which will help me best to Heaven ? Which 



44 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

will help me best to love God ?' If you can answer this, 

God's will is clear. I think, dear N , that you 

must pray a great deal that God may give you a con- 
stant sense of His presence. Then the world's esteem 
and applause will be nothing to you, and you will feel 
how foolish it is to care for anyone's esteem but God's. 
Whenever your mother wishes you to go into society, of 
course you must obey, and cheerfully too ; but remem- 
ber that God is with you, particularly at such times, 
and offer up your heart and actions to Him, and ask 
Him to have mercy on you. But when she does not 
express any wish about it, then if you find worldly con- 
versation and worldly society does not help you to God, 
don't seek it, and do not, darling, be discouraged in the 
least at your liking of the world. Speak to Our Lord 
about it, when you visit Him in His Adorable Sacra- 
ment, and do not forget every day to offer up that 
heart of yours to His Sacred Heart." 

Another correspondent of Clare's, Father Edmund 
Vaughan, who besides being her uncle, had two other 
claims on her confidence, being also her godfather and 
her director, receives a letter from her, of about this 
date (December, 1860). It contains the first mention 
of her wishes and plans as regards the carrying out of 
her religious vocation. We shall see later on how soon 
these desires were to meet with their fulfilment. 

" I am writing this epistle merely to extract a letter 
from you, so please do not forget this. I am longing 
to be a Poor Clare. God alone knows how I long. Pa- 
pa hardly thinks I am strong enough for such an Or- 
der, and I am drear] fully afraid he will not let me go at 



CLARE V A UGH AN. 45 

Easter, as he promised me some time ago. I myself 
believe I shall never be strong until I am a Poor Clare, 
and for this reason, that I shall never be happy until 
then. Reason, however, is ever ready to chime in with 
our wishes, so I suppose not much confidence can ,be 
placed in that. I am going to make a JSTovena that, if 
it be God's will, I may enter the Poor Clares the Fri- 
day in Easter week. The Novena begins next Thurs- 
day; I hope you will not forget me. I shall try what 
power there is in prayer! I always expect an immen- 
sity of trial and suffering when I am a nun; were it 
only for that, no wonder nuns are happy! Pain gives 
me a great deal of happiness; one feels so thoroughly 
belonging more to God, because we know His hand is 
upon us. Oh, what does anything matter so that we 
only become more like that Heart which was once so 
full of sorrow; that Heart abandoned by all, even by 
God Himself! . . . But this sounds as if I were going to 
preach, so I will stop instantly. I have just finished 
reading the life of St. Colette, the great Reformer of the 
Franciscans. There is a great difference between the 
Seraphic Mother, St. Clare, and the glorious Reform- 
er, St. Colette: at least I mean that from her birth St. 
Colette's will and character seem naturally so im- 
mensely firm and strong, and so suited, inasmuch as a 
woman can be suited, for such an arduous and difficult 
mission; and then she had a much sterner spirit than 
St. Clare, there seems to have been more of a woman's 
gentle feeling combined with her natural devotedness 
of heart and generosity and firmness of purpose; and 
when the grace of God so wondrously got possession of 



46 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

such a heart, and reigned there and consumed every- 
thing earthly in it, then what a seraph of love she be- 
came! Her passionate burning love for Our Lord, and 
her character also is like St. Mary Magdalene (peni- 
tent), so it appears to me, while St. Mary of Egypt 
represents St. Colette. I take such interest in the lives 
of saints. They teach so much about God, and each 
time they are read we learn something fresh from 
them. St. Francis's life in this respect is inexhaust- 
ible. How wonderful poor weak man can become 
with the strength of the grace of God ! I am anxious 
to read the life of St. Alphonsus, which I have not yet 
done. I have been feeling often lately heavy and 
gloomy in mind, and the devil is busy with his tempta- 
tions. This is partly the reason I have been so long 
writing to you. I beg of you to pray for me. I have 
a particular claim on your prayers, as you are my god- 
father. I often say to Our Lord, ' Why hast Thou done 
this? Govern, Lord, the thing which Thou hast 
created/ It is from St. Augustine, as of course you 
know. I hope your Mission did a great deal of good. 
I heard, the other day, that Father Coffin is the Confes- 
sor Extraordinary of the Poor Clares. I hope this is 
true ... Is it not a comfort that Joe is professed! 
There is no danger now of his coming out, Deo Gra- 
tias ! I have indeed written a long letter; I hope I have 
not tired you with it. What a glorious saint was St. 
Francis (I really must say one word more about him); 
he was like a comet amongst the bright stars of his Or- 
der. St. Francis, pray for us!" 

Christmas was always a time of special love and re- 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 47 

joicing to Clare, and so as this beloved Feast comes 
round, she writes the following beautiful letter to her 
usual correspondent: 

€i I wish you a very happy Christmas, c for I bring 
you tidings of great joy. This day is born to you a 
Saviour/ I wish you such intense joy and peace— a 
joy that the world cannot understand, and a peace that 
surpasses all understanding. He has indeed come to 
bring peace to men of good will. Can I trust you with 
a secret, so that you will not tell it to any living soul? 
If you will promise me that you will not disclose it, on 
any account, to anyone, I will tell it to you in my next 
letter. Is there any chance of your coming up to Lon- 
don next year? How are you, my darling? Write and 
give an account of yourself! I think Teresa's cough is 
a little better, notwithstanding the cold weather. I 
went to the Oratory the other day, and afterwards to 
see Miss Mereweather. I am sure you will be delighted 
to hear that her maid, Ann, has just become a Catho- 
lic, and she is so happy, and it is such a comfort to 
Miss Mereweather. How is Tizzie? When you write 
to me please place this letter before your visage, and 
answer all the questions contained therein ... I am 
afraid you will find it very dull when your papa and 

mamma leave for Lulworth. Never mind, dear N" , 

you know that you can oifer it up to the Sacred Heart 
of our dear Lord. Let us do all we can this month, es- 
pecially to love and serve the little King who has done 
so much out of love for us. Love this little Child, for 
He is exceedingly to be loved. ' Come, then, let us 
love the Babe of Bethlehem/ is the enraptured cry of 
our beloved Father Francis. I went to midnight Mass 



48 CLARE VATJGHAN. 

at Farm Street. It was glorious; but the misery was 
not to have been able to go to Holy Communion there, 
as it is not allowed in London. I suppose you had that 
happiness at home, in your delicious church. I have got 
a particular love for your church. There is something 
so grand and wide about it; I like the Eoman ctyle 
so much . . . We are trying to make a Christmas tree 
for the children at the Home, but we have not bought 
the tree, and have a very few rullisliy things to put on 
it when we do get it. Now you told me some time ago 
that Uncle Tom had given you thirteen shillings for the 
poor children. I wish you would send it for them in 
your next letter, as no one has got a penny to buy the 
tree and presents, and that will help immensely. You 
could send it in stamps. Now, my darling, farewell." 

We suppose her friend's asseverations were considered 
satisfactory. At least we find soon after the following 
letter was received: 

" Many thanks for your letter, which I received a 
few days ago. My secret is that I am to go to the Poor 
Clares at Bays water, at Easter. Papa has promised 
me. I don't want it to be known until I am gone. 
The Friday in Easter week I have chosen to enter, it 
being dedicated to the Sacred Heart. Get prayers for 
me, please, and you yourself pray for me like wildfire, 
but do not say for what intention you get the prayers. 
I hope you will in time join me, and we will help each 
other to love God immensely, and with our whole 
hearts. I must now tell you about the Christmas tree 
for the poor children of the Home, which went off with 
great eclat last Monday. I wish you had been there to 
have seen their intense eagerness and joy. Papa and 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 49 

Mary go to Lulworth on Monday, so I shall be left in 
comparative solitude, except for my dear companions — 
my books, — which are always agreeable and interesting. 
I have just been reading the life of Blessed Peter Clav- 
er. Such a gloriously heroic saint, who devoted his en- 
tire life to the service of the negroes — a life of forty 
years! I enjoy immensely reading saints' lives. They 
are 'like heroes of romance, so gracefully, so nobly, so 
royally do they bear themselves; their actions are as 
beautiful as fiction, yet as real as facts/ I shall be de- 
lighted to leave our children of the Home to you, dear- 
est, and it will be very jolly if you could collect enough 
to give them a treat yearly. Don't you think my secret 
gloriously magnificent for me? I am always thinking 
of it" 

In another very characteristic letter, which she writes 
to an intimate friend a good deal younger than herself, 
she says: 

" I am so very glad that you are always kind and 
gentle and considerate to those under you — I mean the 

servants. A told me this. I have such horror of 

haughtiness to servants. As if we were not made of 
the same dust! I always make it a particular point to 
be kind to the so-called lower class . . . Life is short; 
let us make the best of every opportunity to suffer and 
work for our Divine Master. Talk a great deal to the 
Sacred Heart about your desire of belonging entirely to 
Him. I wanted to talk to you about Lent, and what 
we may do for our beloved Lord, as we cannot fast. I 
will think of some penance — interior, — and then write 
and tell you. Please do the same for me/' 



CHAPTER VI. 

The history of Clare's vocation might be said to be 
the history of her life. As other children learn 
fairly tales, legends, stories of all kinds at their mother's 
knee, so Clare loved to hear, even as her mother loved 
to tell her, stories of the saints — of their wonderful 
heroism, their dauntless courage, their willing sacrifice 
of joy, happiness, life itself, in the service of their Mas- 
ter. 

The story of her own particular patron saint, St. 
Clare, was chief favorite among these. Clare was never 
tired of hearing about that heroic servant of God, and 
her mother, who had no dearer wish than that she should 
become a nun, used laughingly to call her her little 
"Poor Clare." Though so early deprived by death of 
her beloved mother, the seed had been sown, and it fell 
on fruitful soil. At the great moment of her First Com- 
munion, she was inspired to make a vow of perpetual 
virginity; and from that moment it is not too much to 
say that Clare never for an instant wavered in her deter- 
mination, at the very earliest possible occasion, to devote 
herself to the service of God in the Religious life. Some 
people will only see in the above action a dangerous pre- 
cedent which no youthful fervor could justify, and in 
ordinary cases no doubt they would be right. On the 
other hand, who can deny that God sometimes attracts 
souls aod leads them by extraordinary ways? No one 

50 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 51 

could have read, even so far, the history of Clare's life, 
without seeing that she was no ordinary child. At the 
age of twelve, sorrow and grace had done their work in 
her soul, she had learnt the terrible lesson that some 
learn late in life; some spend all their time in learning, 
and yet hardly fully understand, to the last, that " all 
is vanity " except loving and serving God. 

What time and experience do for most people, the 
sharp sword of anguish did for Clare. From the mo- 
ment of her mother's death, life — or at least everything 
that made life desirable — was ended for this loving, 
faithful child. She never knew afterwards what it was 
to be happy, and her only solace was working for others, 
and forwarding the interests of her beloved Lord and 
Master in the world. All her prayers and works of pen- 
ance were directed to this end — the salvation of sinners, 
intercession for the souls in Purgatory, — whatever ob- 
jects we know through faith to be the interests of the 
loving Heart of Jesus, she made hers also. Nor were 
the poor, the special children of His love, forgotten. 
It is not too much to say of Clare that she had a pas- 
sionate love of Poverty. It was the master passion of 
her dear St. Francis; and with that characteristic en- 
thusiasm which was such a prominent feature of her 
character, from the moment she made up her mind to 
become a Poor Clare, she adopted and made her very 
own all the beautiful traditions and devotions of that 
most glorious saint, and, as far as she could, made his 
very spirit hers. She was never tired of talking of this 
beautiful Poverty of St Francis, his dama Poverta to 
whom he was mystically espoused, and for whose sake he 



52 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

had so joyfully renounced all things, and been counted 
as a madman. But Clare was not satisfied in imitating 
her holy model in words only. Like him she rejoiced 
in serving the poor, in depriving herself of all she had 
for them, and in treating herself on all possible oppor- 
tunities as their equal, nay, their inferior. Her great- 
est joy was to save up what was intended for her own 
meals for them, and when she had no money to give 
them, she joyfully parted with any little treasure she 
had, even to her very beads and crucifix. Anything she 
could call her own, she longed not only to share with 
them, but to deprive herself utterly of, for their benefit. 
We cannot do better than quote again from the letter 
written by her sister on this subject. She says: 

" We had a school not far from us, in London, in the 
Parish of Westminster, and to go there was one of 
Clare's chief pleasures. She always singled out the 
most wretched and repulsive-looking child amongst 
them, and on this child would lavish all her care and 
attention. It was to him that she loved to talk about 
our dear Lord and His Mother, for whom it is needless 
to say she had a special devotion. Shortly before her 
departure for Amiens, Clare wished to give a splendid 
feast to her children of the Eagged School. She as- 
sembled them accordingly in a large room, serving them 
at dinner with her own hands, and standing as their 
humble servant behind their chairs; afterwards she dis- 
tributed amongst them and their families great num- 
bers of rosaries, as a last pledge of her love for the 
Mother of God." 

The Eagged School was, as we have seen, in her 



CLARE V AUG II AN. 53 

thoughts to the last, and in leaving the world she made 
provision for it by bequeathing the care of providing it 
with a yearly treat to her most intimate friend. To be 
poor, or friendless^ or afflicted, was to insure a welcome 
from Clare. Though, as a rule, she avoided company, 
and it was a real effort to her to go down to the draw- 
ing-room to receive visitors, if she was told that a poor 
person wished to see her, she lost not a moment in going 
to him. On one occasion (one of her sisters happening to 
be present) a Jesuit lay-brother came to the house to beg. 
This being a visitor after Clare's own heart, having the 
two things she loved best (holiness and poverty) to rec- 
ommend him, she conversed freely for some time with 
him. On leaving, he thanked her for her kindness, and 
said that it was too much condescension on the part of 
a grand young lady like her to talk so familiarly to a 
poor ignorant man, a servant of the servants of God. 
" A grand lady ! " she cried. " What can you be think- 
ing of? I am nothing but a poor person myself, and I 
shall never be happy till I have given up everything 
and embraced the Poverty of St. Francis." 

To some it may be a cause of astonishment that with 
her love of the poor, and the special attraction she al- 
ways manifested for the conversion of sinners, Clare 
should have chosen to join a contemplative rather than 
an active Order. To Clare, however, this difficulty never 
presented itself. She had no hesitation ; God called her 
to the more perfect way ; she heard His voice in her 
soul, and obeyed. But if it had been urged upon her 
that by serving Christ in the persons of His poor as a 
Sister of Charity, or working for the reclamation of sin- 



54 CLARE VAUQHAN. 

ners as a Good Shepherd nun, she would be more cer- 
tain of pleasing Him and accomplishing His Divine 
AVill on earth, she would have made the same answer as 
the Church has made before her, ten thousand times, 
to the objections of its adversaries. The contempla- 
tive Orders were founded for a special work in the 
Church, in order to pray, to love, and to expiate ; like 
Mary, they sit continually at the feet of Our Lord, hear- 
ing His Word, and like her they have chosen the better 
part, and they have the divine promise that "it shall 
not be taken away from them." 

A French writer says : " Passionate, loving desires to 
serve God are so pleasing to Him, that on three differ- 
ent occasions the inspired text calls Daniel a man of 
desires, Vir desideriorum ; and if he is heard it is be- 
cause, as the Angel Gabriel informs him, he is a man of 
desires, ' Quia vir desideriorum es.' Moses, disputing 
with the divine wrath, cries : 'Either forgive this peo- 
ple, or blot me out from the book of life ' ; and the Al- 
mighty allowed Himself to be vanquished. It is thus 
that conversions are, as it were, wrested from the hands 
of God. Holiness and prayer are the two great means 
of saving souls ; action and speech, necessary instru- 
ments as they are to salification, only come second. 
There is as much difference between a doer (if we may 
use the word) and an apostle, as between body and soul. 
How many humble women, unknown to this world, 
who having like Eustelle, prayed, wept, and sighed in- 
cessantly, whilst imploring the divine forgiveness for 
sinners, will at the last day see themselves surrounded 
by a multitude of the predestinate who will owe Heav- 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 55 

en to their prayers, and be placed in the midst of the 
St. Vincent Ferrers, the St. Francis Xaviers, and the 
St. Dominies ! Whereas, others, contrary perhaps to 
their expectations, and in spite of their labors, will not 
have one spiritual son to present to Our Lord, because 
these will have been men of action, without being saints 
and men of prayer."* 

Clare's longing to save souls found an outlet in a 
very touching and natural way, in working for the 
good and sanctification of her own immediate belong- 
ings and home circle. Nothing can be more opposed 
to the spirit of true piety than that restless desire, so 
often shown by beginners in the paths of perfection, to 
accomplish great things abroad — whether in converting 
the heathen or educating the street Arab — whilst it ne- 
glects the means of doing good at its own doors. A 
special blessing seems to rest on those gentle ministra- 
tions, words, and acts of kindness which make virtue 
and piety attractive to those around us. And it was in 
these humble and unobtrusive duties that Clare was so 
great a proficient. If any of the servants were ill in the 
house, she was the first to go and visit them, and attend 
to their wants. Like all unselfish people (and the dis- 
tinguishing feature of Clare's character was her great 
unselfishness), she was the foremost whenever there was 
any deed of kindness or charity to be performed. No 
headache, however violent, would stop her when the 
consolation or good of others was in question. Though 
Clare was by nature shy and retiring, so much so that 
a sudden word addressed to her would bring the blood 

* Life of Marie Ens telle Harpain. 



56 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

rushing to her cheek, this never stood in her way when 
she saw an opportunity of working for God or her neigh- 
bor. One of her favorite practices during the last year 
of her life in the world was to invite the servants into 
the schoolroom and speak to them of the love of God, 
and explain to them the lives of the saints. 

Great as was Clare's longing to leave all to follow 
Christ in the way of life to which she felt herself called, 
it would be a great mistake to suppose that she did not 
suffer deeply when the time came to make the sacrifice 
of the fond ties which still bound her to earth. She 
was passionately attached to her father, and almost 
equally so to her brothers and sisters ; but she had ever 
ringing in her ears the words of Our Lord, "He that 
loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of 
Me ; and he that loveth son or daughter more than Me 
is not worthy of Me. And he that taketh not up his 
cross and folio we th Me is not worthy of Me." 

Whilst her future was still uncertain, she writes to her 
father as follows : 

"I am longing to have a talk with you about myself 
and the Poor Clares. I long to be safe in my convent, 
never to come out of it — following the vocation God 
has, I hope and trust, called me to. . . . The words of 
Our Lord, * You have not chosen Me, but I have chosen 
you/ is a rather awful truth to contemplate. But I 
have prayed daily for so many years to know my voca- 
tion, that I quite trust I am not mistaken when I say I 
think that the Order of the Poor Clares is the one I be- 
lieve God has called me to. . . . I shall not be taken by 
surprise by the austerities, etc., as I go on purpose that 



CLARE V A UGH AX. 57 

all m) r senses, and every sort of power I possess, may be 
mortified and put down. It would be silly and absurd, 
indeed, to expect anything but that, so that with the 
strength of God's grace I hope to remain and die there." 
The time had come, then, when Clare was to be al- 
lowed to carry all these longing desires of her heart, 
which already threatened to endanger her health and 
undermine her constitution, into effect. Her pray- 
ers were heard; her father withdrew his opposition, and 
the only question that remained to be settled was the 
particular Community she was to join. She had long 
known the Poor Clares at Bayswater, and to them her 
thoughts naturally turned. Whilst she was still uncer- 
tain, an accident drew her attention to a convent of 
the same Order abroad, the Community of the Poor 
Clares at Amiens. Two things attracted her towards 
this convent. In the first place, it enjoyed the immense 
privilege of Exposition of the Most Holy Sacrament, 
and in the second, it demanded of her a more than or- 
dinary sacrifice. In this country, and in the neighbor- 
hood of London, she would have been secure of the oc- 
casional visits of her numerous family, her friends, and 
her relations, whereas, at Amiens she would be called 
on to put the sea between them and her, and the sepa- 
ration would therefore be more entire and complete. 
Accordingly, after all fitting inquiries had been made, 
and she had learnt, on competent authority, that the 
Community she proposed joining were living up to the 
primitive fervor of their rule, and were indeed noted 
for the holiness and asceticism of their lives, she 
asked and obtained leave to join the Order on the day 



58 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

previously mentioned by her in her letters, the Friday 
of Easter week, April 25th, 1861. This is a letter she 
wrote, on the Monday in Easter week, to an intimate 
friend and cousin: 

" I was delighted to receive your letter the other 
day; many thanks for it. Is it not truly magnificent 
for me? I am really going to join the Poor Clares next 
Friday. I do not go to the convent at Bayswater, but 
to Amiens, as they have perpetual adoration joined to 
it. There is a Jesuit House at Amiens, and Uncle 
Eichard wrote to one of the Fathers there to ask him 
about the convent. The account he gave was most 
satisfactory, though agonizing also. It is thoroughly 
according to the spirit of St. Clare, and a most fervent 
Community. The agonizing part is that the nuns say 
they have an immense number who go there to join 
them, and they are continually being sent away, on ac- 
count of the great difficulty in following the rule. 
They have several novices now, but they do not expect 
that they will remain. They do not much like taking 
me, as they say the constitution can't be thoroughly 
formed at eighteen. However, God's will be done, for 
that must be mine. I could not sleep all night when I 
first heard I was going on Friday. I will indeed pray 
for you. I think God must love you in a very special 
manner, for He has sent you so many things to bear ; 
and now the friend you love best He takes away from 
you. There was once a Heart so filled with sorrow 
that it had to give a loud cry. It was abandoned even 
by God Himself. ' My God, my God, why hast Thou 
forsaken me!' And all this was for love of you! and 



GLARE VAUGHAN. 59 

now He sends you something to suffer for love of Him. 
What a privilege the saints have always considered this! 
I often think that that great heart of yours,, and all the 
capabilities He has endowed you with, must be meant 
to be spent in a different way from other mortals! Do 
pray for me, particularly on Friday . . . Teresa * is 
very happy! I can't believe she is going to-morrow. It 
does seem so extraordinary. Our angel mother does 
indeed live among us as much and more than ever she 
did when on earth." 

The next day she writes to N . After repeating 

what she had said above, about her change of plans — 
that it was to Amiens, and not to Bayswater that she 
was bound, — she says: 

" Pray a great deal for me, dearest N— — , and thank 
our beloved Lord for such great love in choosing such 
an unworthy creature as myself to become a religious. 
I will never forget you, and will pray daily for you. Is 
it not wonderful about Teresa? I always thought it 
would be so. She enters this evening. And so this is 
to say farewell to you, dear N" — — , until we meet in 
that land where there are no more partings, but ever- 
lasting bliss and endless joy. I hope you have a great 
devotion to St. Joseph; he is, you know, the special 
patron of the interior life. I owe him a great deal, far 
more than I can ever say." 

Once more she writes to this same dear friend, and 
as one reads it one feels that a cry of pain from this 
one who was to be left behind, who was to be without 

* Her sister Teresa became a Sister of Charity at Westminster, 
where she died soon afterwards, 



60 CLARE VAVQHAN. 

her for evermore, reached her, and perhaps for one in- 
stant ruffled the calm, or rather the blissful rapture, 
with which Clare contemplated parting with all — father, 
relations, friends, country, all things. It begins thus: 
" Although it is midnight, I really cannot leave 
home without writing to you, and assuring you that you 
will ever be loved by me, and that you never can be 
forgotten. I was very glad indeed to receive your long 
letter this morning. But why do you think that I have 
changed in my feelings towards you? You must not 
think or say that, dearest N , because it is so un- 
true. I am not worth all the love you bestow on me. 
You do not know me; if you did, you would not care 
for me as much as you do. But your letter was just 
like your own self, full of affection and generosity. 
You do me great kindness in praying for me. From 
my heart I thank you. ... If I am allowed, I will cer- 
tainly write to you; but I know they are very strict 
about letter writing, and one is very seldom allowed to 
write even to one's own home. Oh, N — — , it seems 
too glorious, too magnificent to think that I shall act- 
ually one day be the spouse of Jesus! I will leave the 
life of our angel mother for your own private reading, 
but please give it to May, as it is hers. Farewell, then, 

dearest N" ; increase daily in the love of the Blessed 

Sacrament. Let Jesus be all in all to you. Be cour- 
ageous, and go always to the Sacred Heart in all your 
trials and afflictions. There is nothing so tender or so 
consoling as that adorable Heart. May you remain 
there for ever. I was so sorry I could not write to you 
by this day's post, but my time has been so occupied 



GLARE V A UGH AN. 61 

that I had no time to write you a long letter. The 
whole of this afternoon and evening I have been spend- 
ing with Teresa at Westminster. But really now I 
must say farewell until we meet in that better land. 
May God bless you,, and Mary, our sweet Mother, watch 
over you, and may the holy angels guard you and pro- 
tect you, and may you never forget in your prayers 
your friend and cousin." 

Then comes a very characteristic postscript: 

" Don't you sympathize with me for preferring going 
to Amiens, far away, etc., etc." 

One more letter Clare writes before starting for Am- 
iens. This time it was to her uncle, Father Edmund 
Vaughan. She begins: 

" It is a far greater trial for me than you have any 
idea of, not seeing you again before I leave for my home 
at Amiens. I fully intended coming to see you this 
week. I only knew on Good Friday I was going to 
Amiens to-day. Even then it was not thoroughly ar- 
ranged, as I had heard nothing decided about the con- 
vent itself. It seems too glorious to think I am really 
going to-day! And yet it is true! How immensely 
loving of God to choose such a miserable creature as 
myself for His spouse! I will indeed pray every day 
for you, dearest uncle, and I will write to you when I 
am clothed, or before that, if it is possible. It is just 
time to start, so you will, I hope, excuse this blotty con- 
cern. A thousand thanks for your note, and for all 
your kindness and charity. Do remember me, partic- 
ularly to-morrow. Do pray that I may persevere. The 
thought of my own unworthiness oppresses me so much 



62 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

at times, that if anything could make me come to a 
standstill, that would. " 

With these words Clare's life in the world closes. The 
next day saw her safely landed in that home so ardently 
longed for, which was to be hers for the short time 
that remained to her on earth. But this sketch, so 
imperfectly put together (from recollections, and from 
the letters she left behind), is now to be supplemented 
by a record of a thousand times greater interest to the 
spiritual-minded. It is that of Clare's inner life and 
practices of prayer during the nine months of her life 
as a Eeligious at Amiens till her death there in 1862. 
During these nine months her soul made marvellous 
strides in the paths of perfection, so as even to fill with 
astonishment the holy Community of which Clare con- 
sidered herself the last and least worthy member. This 
life was drawn up by the confessor of the Community, 
the Rev, M. l'Abbe Herbet, from notes kept by the Re- 
ligious, and was entitled "Notes on the Life and Death 
of Clare Vaughan, Sister Mary Clare of the Infant Je- 
sus, who died in the odor of sanctity on the 20th of 
January, 1862." 



CHAPTER VII. 

Two or three verses borrowed from the fourth book 
of " The Following of Christ " will serve as an in- 
troduction to this little sketch that we have undertaken 
to give. In putting these words, which appear to sum 
up her life, into the mouth of our Poor Clare, we shall 
have furnished her with the means of exhibiting herself 
to us in her true character. This short passage will be 
the best explanation of the title which she loved to give 
herself, in the vividness of her faith and the ardor of 
her love, that of the Victim of the Most Holy Sacra- 
ment. " Lord, all things are Thine, that are in heaven 
and upon earth. I desire to offer myself up to Thee as 
a voluntary oblation, and to remain forever Thine. 
Lord, in the simplicity of my heart I offer myself to 
Thee this day, as Thy servant forevermore, for Thy 
homage, and for a sacrifice of perpetual praise. Re- 
ceive me with this Sacred Oblation of Thy precious 
Body, which I offer to Thee this day in the invisible 
presence of assisting angels, that it may be for salvation 
unto me and all Thy people. Receive me with this 
Holy Oblation of Thy precious Body, which I offer Thee 
to-day, in the presence of Thy holy angels, invisible 
witnesses of Thy sacred mysteries, so that it may be a 
pledge of salvation to me and all the people." 

These words, which a holy pen once inscribed, a life 
— amongst many others — has in our days devoted itself 

63 



64 GLARE V AUG HAN. 

specially to illustrate. All that we have to say about 
this life, which, though short, was so full, is described 
in these words, " Keceive me with the oblation of Thy 
precious Body/'' Yes, it was for the glory of the Holy 
Eucharist that this child was born, it was to this end 
that she lived — for this she died. If it is permitted to 
us to compare small things with great, we would even 
say that, as St. John received the mission to give testi- 
mony to the Word hidden beneath the veil of humanity, 
so this holy soul received the mission from Heaven to 
give testimony, in the narrow circle in whichshe moved, 
of that Light hidden under the veil of the most august 
Sacrament of the Altar. For her to live was to love 
and to adore. Death was, for her, to see and possess the 
all-loving God, who has deigned to assure us that "His 
delight is to be with the children of men." 

Dedicated to God for years, indeed from her very 
birth, by the habits of her life and the desires of her 
heart, the time had now come when Clare was to be- 
come so in deed and in truth. It was not, however, 
without being well assured of the genuineness of her 
vocation that her father yielded at last to her pressing 
demand. On the 8th of April, 1861, he took her him- 
self to Amiens, and handed her over to the Community 
of Poor Clares, Clare having chosen that house in pref- 
erence to others on account of the Blessed Sacrament 
being perpetually exposed there, night and day, to the 
adoration of the faithful and the Eeligious of the Order. 
From our first interview (remarks the nun from whose 
notes this little work has been compiled), we drew Col- 
onel Vaughan's attention to the fears which we all en- 




n 




I! 






ENTRANCE GATE TO THE MONASTERY AT AMIENS. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 65 

tertained, that his daughter, on account of her delicacy 
of constitution, and her bringing up, would never be 
able to accustom herself to our way of life; but he as- 
sured us that the longing desire of his daughter to con- 
secrate herself to God was killing her by inches, and that 
he thought that the effect of the observance of ourEule 
on her health, austere though it be, was less to be 
dreaded than an opposition to her wishes, which threat- 
ened to undermine it altogether. We gave into this 
reasoning, knowing as we did by experience that calm- 
ness of mind and contentment of heart very often exer- 
cise a wonderfully salutary influence, even on constitu- 
tions already threatened with disease. Clare was ac- 
cordingly presented to the Community, which was as- 
sembled in Chapter for that purpose. The renown of 
her virtues, her eminent piety and angelic innocence, 
had already preceded her amongst us. His Eminence 
Cardinal Wiseman, had spoken in these terms of her in 
a letter addressed to us with regard to this occasion: 

" I confide a beloved lamb of my flock, Clare 
Vaughan, to your care, so that she may associate her- 
self with you in your mortifications and your prayers, 
some of which I trust will be for us. You will become 
possessed of an exquisite flower, a flower of innocence 
and virtue, which I regret deeply parting with; she is 
one of those souls which Our Lord has been pleased to 
preserve in their baptismal purity." 

This high praise, coming with the weight of such 
great and venerable authority, increased the desire we 
had previously felt to possess so holy a soul in the 
midst of us. Still, our first desire was to know and 



66 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

accomplish the holy will of God with regard to her ad- 
mission. Thus to make sure of the truth of her voca- 
tion, we addressed the usual questions to her, not 
allowing her for a moment to remain ignorant of the 
trying and penitential side of the new form of life 
which she proposed adopting. We asked her, amongst 
other things, how, having never done any manual labor, 
she would care to descend to the common and menial 
tasks in which the every-day life of a religious commun- 
ity consists; such as sweep the house, wash the plates 
and dishes, prepare the food, etc.; but to all these 
questions, and others similar, her invariable answer 
was, " I will try to do it as soon as you have shown me 
the way," thus putting aside one difficulty for another, 
hers being, not about doing these things, but doing 
them well. But another obstacle, this time an almost 
insurmountable one to any courage but Clare's, present- 
ed itself. In her father's house Clare, on account of 
her extreme weakness of digestion, had always eaten 
meat on days of abstinence; on the other hand, the 
Eule of the Order of Poor Clares enjoins perpetual ab- 
stinence from meat, and this rule is so absolute that 
dispensation is not even given in cases of serious illness. 
The pious postulant's answer to this objection was that 
once she was admitted she would do like the rest, and 
partake cheerfully of all that was put before her; and 
in order to persuade her interrogators to share her own 
feelings of confidence, she ingenuously assured them 
that her stomach would follow the lead of her head, 
and that both would yield obedience to our holy Eule: 
" for," said she, " though the slightest study or appli- 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 67 

cation of the mind gives me violent pains, I never feel 
any when I pray; then the time always appears too 
short/" N"o argument having any effect in shaking her 
determination to become a Poor Clare, the Community 
proceeded to confer upon her admission into the house, 
and she was accordingly, as is the custom in those cases, 
re-conducted into the outer enclosure while the delib- 
eration went on. 

(s You will pray hard that the will of God may be 
made known/" said one of the Sisters who accompanied 
her. " Oh, yes/" she cried very earnestly, " I have al- 
ready prayed with all my heart for this intention/" 
" But/" added the Sister, " when the moment comes for 
you to make the sacrifice for good and all, and you 
have to take leave of your father, your courage may 
ooze out, and you may not be able to make up your 
mind to let him return all alone to England."" At 
these words the poor child gave utterance to a most 
decided "No!" which revealed the fervor of a will 
triumphing over all the instincts of nature at bidding 
of faith. Tears, caused more by the fear of being re- 
jected than by the thought of being separated from him 
whom she loved best on earth, flowed down her cheeks. 
One could only console her and tell her to confide in 
God, who will, never allow those who trust in Him to be 
confounded. And thus, in spite of the natural fears 
entertained for her health with such a change of life 
and habits in prospect, the Chapter judged that it was 
the Divine Will that this young postulant should be 
admitted, at least on probation, even though it should 
be at the risk of returning her to her family if the trial 



68 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

was beyond her strength. But Our Lord had partic- 
ular designs on this soul, and He willed their accom- 
plishment for His honor and glory. Clare was accord- 
ingly received into the Community. It would be well- 
nigh impossible for us, the Superior of the Convent 
declared, to describe the joy she showed when the good 
news was announced to her, and even more difficult to 
put into words her happiness when she was admitted into 
the Community. It was even greater when she saw 
herself stripped of her worldly dress in order to be in- 
vested with the poor and humble habit of religion. 
The Prophet asks this question, " Will a virgin forget 
her ornaments, or a bride her stomacher ? " * Truly 
may we answer this question in the affirmative. This 
wonder is daily accomplished, and the House of St. 
Clare at Amiens showed it for the hundredth time re- 
newed. In truth no words can say how beautiful, how 
attractive is this most loving Spouse, who offers Him- 
self to the soul of man in order that He may possess it 
alone. Thus with what fervor of gratitude the new 
betrothed of Our Lord gave to each one of the Sisters 
the customary kiss of peace, with what fervor of joy 
she thanked them for the favor they had granted her! 

These preliminaries gone through, she was confided 
to the care of the Mistress of Novices, from whom, it is 
unnecessary to say, she received the most cordial wel- 
come. But if the Noviceship congratulated itself on 
this addition to its number, not less the whole Com- 
munity was soon to appreciate and recognize the value 
of the precious treasure with which Our Lord had en- 

* Jeremias ii. 32. 



CLARE YAUGHAN. 69 

riched it. Sister Mary Clare of the Infant Jesns (the 
name she chose in religion) was indeed, as Cardinal 
Wiseman expressed it, an angel of innocence and 
sweetness. Her countenance was stamped with such a 
gentle expression of candor, her manner partook of so 
much grace and dignity, everything about her, in fine, 
betrayed something so absolutely angelic, that one 
might already have taken her for an inhabitant of 
Heaven. Her very presence shed joy and peace on 
those who approached her; one felt one's self naturally 
drawn to her, and it was impossible to see her without 
loving her. 

Soon after she was received into the convent at Amiens, 
she writes to her sister, the Visitation nun, in the fol- 
lowing terms: 

"Dearest Gladys: — I have just been sweeping! I 
am dreadfully afraid that the dust, which is so good for 
one's health, they say, should make me live forever! I 
can't tell you how happy I am here. I should not have 
thought it was possible to be so happy, and yet to have 
so many trials and crosses. To be a daughter of St. 
Clare and a true spouse of Christ one must be dead to 
one's self; but how true it is that Our Lord puts un- 
speakable joys in the Cross! Who can describe the joy 
the soul feels in suffering for the love of Him who loved 
us even to the ' folly of the Cross! ' Pray for me, I beg 
of you, dearest Gladys, that I may correspond to the 
grace of my sublime vocation. What courage and gen- 
erosity it requires! I beg of you to implore those vir- 
tues for me of our Beloved Lord. I am simply longing 
for the day of my profession, but, poor wretch that I 



70 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

am, I have not yet been clothed! I am hoping to be 
clothed in the month of September. We have two 
Masses here every day, and the Blessed Sacrament al- 
ways exposed night and day. It is indeed Heaven be- 
fore its time. On the Feast of our seraphic mother, 
St. Clare, every one asks a favor of Mother Abbess. I 
am going to ask her to give me the name of Sister Mary 
Magdalen, victim of the Blessed Sacrament. 

" I don't think anything will ever be able to drag me 
from here, — I am always dreading they will send me 
away. Yesterday, when I was going to the cellar to 
draw the beer, I found a little hole to hide myself in. 
I would infinitely prefer spending my life there than 
be sent away from this place, where Jesus Christ is so 
loved. I am resolved never to leave this spot. If they 
want to turn me out of doors, 1 shall begin to pray that 
something may go wrong with the lock! There is a 
very large Community here: there are thirty-four pro- 
fessed nuns, without counting the novices. I cannot 
tell you how good they all are to me. This convent is 
entirely according to the spirit of the seraphic Found- 
er. We almost live in the presence of the Blessed Sac- 
rament. Three hours of the day are spent in household 
work, as there are no lay-sisters here. All the nuns 
have but one desire in life, and that is to belong to the 
number of the 'beloved poor' of Jesus Christ. TTe 
get up at half-past eleven for Matins, which lasts till 
three o'clock; then we go to bed again till half-past 
five. It does not take us long to dress. I cannot tell 
you, darling, how glad I was to see you on my way here. 
It was you exactly; you are not the least bit changed, 



CLARE V AUGEAN, 71 

— only your voice, which is now more like the Bolls's. 
Before I got here I wrote from the hotel to tell them at 
home all about you. It is very agonizing to think that 
as long as we live we shall never see each other again! 
How scattered all the members of the family are! But 
what joy and happiness to think we shall all meet again 
together in Heaven, all virgins c following the Lamb 
whithersoever He goeth! ■ And after all, what is life? 
It is so short — though sometimes it seems long to the 
exiled. Will you tell Reverend Mother that I thank 
her so much for all her kindness to me, and that I shall 
never forget her kind hospitality, and that I hope she 
will not forget to pray for me? Will you show dear 
Madame de la Pasture this letter, as I have no time to 
write to her? Give her my love. I have not forgotten 
Charles's delightful prophecy about me, — that I shall 
stay here till I die!" 

The new postulant, from the very first, had to submit 
to the hardest trial which could have been imposed upon 
her — that of not being allowed to observe the Bule in 
all its integrity. This measure of precaution was wise 
and prudent, and notwithstanding her repugnance at 
being exempted, and her entreaties that she might not 
be spared, she had to submit and place her merit in her 
obedience rather than in her acts of mortification. Apart 
from this suffering which, though a very real one, her 
common sense and, above all, her religious feeling quick- 
ly enabled her to conquer, she took infinite pleasure in 
the company of her Sisters, and lost no occasion of 
showing them how happy she was to find herself in their 
midst. Taking the intensest pleasure in all the relig- 



72 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

ious exercises in which she was allowed to join, she car- 
ried the greatest fervor into all the practices of her new 
state of life. The only cloud which occasionally trou- 
bled the peace of her happy and peaceful existence, w r as 
the fear lest her health should be found an insurmount- 
able obstacle to her definite admission into the house. 
One day she heard some of the Sisters saying to each 
other, that novices could not, in conscience, be admitted 
into tho Community who were not able to keep the Rule. 
She took these words as intended for herself, and it was 
with the greatest difficulty that she was consoled. " I 
would much rather," she said, in her expressive and 
energetic style, " that my legs and arms were cut off, 
than that I was refused admission. No," added she, 
" nothing will ever be able to tear me from here." 

A letter which she wrote soon after her arrival at 
Amiens, to her uncle and director, Father Vaughan, has 
been preserved, and shows how deeply she entered, 
heart and soul, into the duties of her new life. 

" It was a real pleasure to me to receive your letter a 
few days ago; I was just thinking of asking permission 
to write to you when I received your letter. Many 
thanks for it. It always does me good to hear from 
you. I am very happy here in this true home of St. 
Clare. I have found all I wanted. The Blessed Sac- 
rament perpetually exposed night and day is all my 
consolation and joy. What a comfort to think you 
pray for me! A true Poor Clare must live on Calvary, 
must wear a crown of thorns, and by her three vows 
must nail herself to the Cross of her crucified Spouse 
if she wishes to reach her home in Heaven. 7, too, am 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 73 

dreadfully tempted to be jealous of dearest Teresa's 
happiness! Was it not a beautiful death to die immedi- 
ately after making her vows? She has heard now those 
glorious words, Veni, Sponsa Christi ! Accipe coronam 
tuam qaam tibi Dominus preparavit in cetemam. Oh, 
how swiftly our dear Lord prepared her soul to follow 
among the other virgins in Heaven! I heard she was 
immensely changed the three weeks before her death, 
and her only delight was to talk on spiritual subjects. 
She used often to say, laughing, to me: c Oh, Uncle 
Edmund never understands me, and I can't get on with 
him; I wish I could send him my soul without my body. 
It is only that he cares for!' We live entirely in the 
Church. I have such a beautiful place there, quite, 
quite close to our dear Lord. It is so magnificent ris- 
ing in the night to sing His praises! and then our ado- 
ration directly after Matins. I am never tired — on the 
contrary, it is when I do not go to Matins that I am 
tired. I wash and clean the dishes and saucepans, etc., 
dust and sweep the corridors and stairs, etc. We have 
no lay-Sisters. Here holy poverty is loved passionately. 
I have never seen Keligious so completely devoted to 
God as they are here. Our Eeverend Mother Abbess is 
perfect in humility and patience. Two or three days 
ago, in the refectory, she knelt down before each of the" 
Religious and kissed their feet. She did the same also 
to the novices. I am so immensely grateful to you 
for your prayers! Pray for me, that I may accept gen- 
erously the crosses and trials our beloved Lord sends me. 
The life of a Poor Clare must be a life of suffering. We 
go to Holy Communion most wonderfully often; even 



74 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

the novices go four or five times in the week. The pro- 
fessed go every day. Last week I went every day. We 
have two Masses and Benediction every day. We have 
a perfect Mistress of Novices. Oh, pray for me that I 
may not abuse such incomprehensible graces and favors! 
I feel so dreadfully frightened about my perseverance, 
and that I shall be sent away, for I feel so thoroughly 
that it would be simply what I deserve. However, I 
told our Mother Mistress, the other day, that I have 
found a place in the convent where I intend hiding my- 
self if they do send me away, and she gave me her per- 
mission that there I should make my profession. I am 
in the hopes that I shall have the name of c Soeur Made- 
leine, Victime du Saint Sacrement/ Many of the Sisters 
call me by that name already. Others call me the Spon- 
sa Christi. I find great difficulty in taking the veget- 
able diet here. At times, even, I can't swallow at all, 
even the bread. But the nuns are so full of kindness 
and charity! they are always making Novenasfor me, so 
I have already conquered many difficulties. I hope to 
begin to fast the end of this month. According to our 
Bule we are obliged to fast for a month before we take 
the habit. I read the Constitutions every day in the 
refectory. The diet is very strict here — only one meal 
at twelve, nothing at all before that time, and at six 
o'clock a piece of bread and some beer. There is noth- 
ing for which I have more devotion than praying for 
sinners. I love them with my utmost heart ; nearly 
all my prayers are for them! — divine office I say for 
them, and I will unite them in future with the labors 
of the Bedemptorists. There is nothing on earth so 



CLARE V AUG HAN. 75 

sad to think of as that souls should be lost whom Our 
Lord's love could not help creating, in spite of all the 
sins He saw they would commit against Him. Our 
Reverend Mother Abbess has a burning love for sinners. 
Her soul is like a temple dedicated to Heaven — like the 
Pantheon in Rome, lighted only from above. All 
the Religious here are in a Confraternity for the con- 
version of England, and England has a share of all 
their prayers and penance. The whole life of a Poor 
Clare is a life of reparation. Now, dearest uncle, I 
have a favor to ask you. I want to make a compact 
with you ; I will offer up Holy Communion for you 
every Thursday if you will do something generous in 
that way for me. Please do not forget to answer this. 
I am delighted to hear about Kenelm. I hope he will 
be a Redemptorist ; I pray for that. I am now going 
to attend Chapter. Our Mother Abbess and our Mis- 
tress of Novices present you their respects, and the lat- 
ter says she will be delighted when you write to me, as 
your letters can do nothing but good ; and the Com- 
munity will be too happy to pray for your missions 
when you write about them. I must now conclude 
this immensely long letter. I don't believe you will 
have time or the immense patience to read it all. But 
what I do beg is that you entreat, when you are at the 
altar, that I may be a spouse of Oar Blessed Lord's 
when He comes to take all His to the eternal Marriage- 
feast. There are forty Religious here, but there is not 
one English nun amongst them. Pray for me." 

Five months elapsed, and Clare was still a postulant; 
and her superiors, though not wanting in encourage- 



76 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

ment, had not as yet dropped one word — such as in or- 
dinary cases, when no reason exists for deferring the 
clothing, would have been said — to lead her to suppose 
that she was shortly to be admitted to that ceremony. 
Her courage, however, never failed, and she had stood 
fairly well the hardships of fasting and the other au- 
sterities of the Eule, which for some little time she had 
followed in all their strictness. Prudence was on the 
side of a longer trial, and its counsels prevailed; but 
how was it possible to resist such fervent desires, such 
ardent appeals? A month more was passed in uncertain- 
ty when, vanquished by such persistent fidelity, the Ee- 
ligious, having taken the advice of the venerable ecclesi- 
astical authority under whose care their house is placed, 
consented to receive the pious postulant into the num- 
ber of their novices. Our Divine Saviour, who takes 
pleasure in doing the will of those who love Him, 
deigned to hear and grant the longing wishes of this 
dear child; and as the thoughts and wills of all men are 
in His hands, He so ordered it that the whole Commu- 
nity was found unanimously to declare in her favor. A 
letter she writes to her brother, the Rev. Kenelm Vaugh- 
an, dates from about this time: 

" I was indeed delighted to receive your letter some time 
ago. I can easily imagine that you have to suffer, but, 
as you say, ' When a soul is resolved to suffer for God, the 
pain of suffering ceases/ Many thanks for the books 
you sent me. I like St. Gertrude's very much. I have 
not read yet Dalgairn's work. French books are the 
most acceptable here, as the nuns, being all French (ex- 
cept one), cannot understand a word of English, and 



CLARE V AUGEAN. 77 

they are glad of a new French work or French prayer- 
book. I am writing to tell you some glorious news. I 
am to take the holy habit of St. Clare on the Feast of 
St. Teresa. ... I hope you will offer up Holy Com- 
munion for me on that great day, that I may take up 
my cross valiantly and follow my Spouse to death. 
Yesterday, being the Feast of our Father, St. Francis, 
we had an hour's recreation. We have recreation four 
times a year. I pray a great deal for you. Every day 
I meet our angel mother and dear Teresa and the entire 
family in the Sacred Heart before the Blessed Sacra- 
ment. We shall never meet in any other home but that, 
until we arrive at our eternal home in Heaven. How 
is Uncle Edmund? I often think Our Lord chooses the 
Poor Clares to honor His suffering life, and the Redemp- 
torists to honor His active life. I hope Mary gets on 

with . However, God will have her soon — as soon 

as she is fledged.* Birds fledged must fly, and ours fly 
all in one direction — like the dove, to he at rest."\ 

SR. CLARE TO MISS BELLASIS, RELIGIOUS OF THE H. C. J. 
COUVEXT DES PaUVRES ClARISSES, 

Amiens, October, 1861. 
My Dearest Mary: — 

" I was delighted to receive your letter to-day, and to 
hear that you are going to be clothed next Friday. I 
congratulate you upon such happiness with all my heart; 

* Clare's sister Mary died in 1884, when prioress of St, Augustine's 
Priory, Newton Abbot. 

f Of her eight brothers, six became priests, while all her sisters en« 
tered convents. 



78 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

and now you will congratulate me when I tell you that 
I, too, am going to receive the holy habit of our seraph- 
ic mother, St. Clare, next Tuesday, the Feast of St. 
Teresa. I enter into retreat to-morrow, and will indeed 
pray much for you. Do not forget me on my clothing 
day. I am so grateful to you, dear Mary, for having 
prayed so much for me. 

" I am immensely happy here. Oh, how we ought to 
thank God unceasingly for such wondrous love and 
mercy in choosing us, and above all, in choosing me to 
be His spouse! Those were beautiful words you copied 
for me, of St. Francis of Sales. Indeed, we must never 
forget that it is Jesus with His cross that we espouse, 
and that ' une vie sans croix, est une vie sans amour/ 

" But I am talking very bravely, when my actions, alas! 
speak so differently. It is impossible to be more coward- 
ly and more full of self-love than I am. However, I am 
hoping all things from my retreat. Pray that I may 
not care what happens, or what I have to suffer from 
my own nature, etc., so I only become like our seraphic 
mother, St. Clare. 

"I am delighted that you have such devotion to our 
Father, St. Francis, and shall indeed say a prayer for 
your dear mistress, who has inspired you all with such a 
devotion. 

"What a comfort that your mamma is reconciled to your 
being a nun, and that your health is so much better! 
Mine also is infinitely better. I am able to fast every 
day, and go to Matins, etc. 

"Farewell, dearest Mary. Is it not strange that my 
clothing happens to fall on my beloved sister's feast ? 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 79 

Pray also to her for ine, as I will for you. My kindest 
love to Mary Teresa. Ask her to pray for me. 

" Believe me, dearest Mary, in the Sacred Heart of 
Jesus, 

" Your Very Affectionate Sister, 

" Clake Vaughan. 

" I do not know what name I shall have. Excuse this 
hurried line." 
My Dearest Mart:— 

" It is impossible to tell you how grateful I feel to you 
for your kindness in sending me such a beautiful account 
of the death of my beloved Teresa. It has been a very 
heavy affliction to me, but it is selfish to grieve when I 
know she is happy; and the far more my companion now 
than she was ever in days past. She was too pure and 
holy for this sinful earth, and she has gone to the home 
of her love, to join our angel mother and those bright 
bands of virgins who follow the Lamb wheresoever He 
goeth. 

" Oh no! I feel myself, she will not have to grieve over 
her intense bliss. What a glorious death, to die immedi- 
ately after becoming the spouse of the Lamb! 

" I am delighted to hear you go to St. Leonard's on the 
21st. I will pray to my darling Teresa for you. She is 
always by my side now. Pray for me, that I may have 
some courage put into my cowardly nature. Your letter 
was read aloud (translated) to all the novices yesterday. 
Ma Mere Maitresse talks of having it read aloud in the 
refectory after it is translated. 

" Kindest love to Kothe. If you see Miss Pole, will you 



80 CLARE VATJQHAN. 

beg her to write and tell me all the last words of my 
most beloved sister?" 

The 15th of October, the Feast of St. Teresa, was 
fixed upon for the clothing ceremony. Although the 
lives of the daughters of St. Francis may be said to be 
spent in a perpetual retreat, yet to prepare the future 
novice for her mystical espousals, eight days of even 
more absolute solitude are enjoined by the Rule. If in 
these days of retreat her fervor increased, her love be- 
came still more ardent, and her life-long desire to die in 
order to be united with her Lord and her only Love be- 
came more ardent than before, it may be also said that 
God, on the other hand, filled her soul with even more 
abundant graces, and with His most consoling and 
choicest benedictions. 

He would not as yet break asunder the ties which at- 
tached her to the earth, but He purified and detached 
her heart more and more; the sword of sacrifice re- 
mained suspended over her head, but the victim was 
preparing, and already from the summits of Thabor 
she could catch sight of her Calvary. 

Those who were witnesses of her clothing still pre- 
serve a recollection of that day. 

" I think I see her again," the Vicar-General lately 
said to us (talking of this touching ceremony, at which 
he had presided), "standing with her pale counte- 
nance slightly tinged with that bright light with which 
we paint the Seraphim on fire with divine love; dressed 
in a simple garment coming down to her feet, which 
were naked, according to the custom of the Order, her 
hair loose and falling in thick masses on her shoulders, 




INTERIOR OF CHAPEL WHERE CLARE RECEIVED THE 
HOLY HABIT. 



CLARE V AUG HAN. 81 

her head crowned with thorns, and holding a crucifix 
in her hands. When she appeared in the middle of the 
choir we were reminded of one of the virgins of the 
early Church being led to the spot of her martyrdom; 
or, to borrow an even higher resemblance, we thought 
of the Angel of the Kesurrection, seated on the stone 
of the sepulchre, and saying to the holy women, ' He 
is not here. Behold the place where they laid 
Him/"* 

Once clad in the liveries of Jesus Christ by her nun's 
habit, Sister Mary Clare of the Infant Jesus proceeded 
rapidly to strip off all that remained in her of the old 
man and to put on the new, who, as St. Paul says, was 
created to sanctity and truth. The great means of ef- 
fecting this transfiguration, or rather substitution of 
the Creator for the creature, is in the devout and con- 
tinual frequentation of that august Sacrament, after 
whose reception the soul of man may indeed cry, "It 
is no longer I who live, but Jesus Christ who lives in 
me!" We have already drawn attention to the fact 
that the distinctive characteristic of the Sister Mary 
Clare — her particular attraction, her vocation in life — 
seemed to be to honor Jesus, present and hidden be- 
neath the Eucharistic veil; it was to follow out this 
call that she had resisted the efforts made by Cardinal 
Wiseman to persuade her to remain in London, as well 
the wishes of her uncle, the Bishop of Plymouth, who 
would gladly have welcomed her into one of the relig- 
ious communities established in his diocese. Seeing, 
therefore, that all Clare's longing desires were realized 

* Mark xvi. 6. 



82 CLARE VAU GRAN. 

by her admission into the convent of Poor Clares, 
which enjoys the happy privilege of Perpetual Adora- 
tion, it is not astonishing that she should have given 
herself up utterly to a practice which formed the hap- 
piness of her life. As the magnet turns to the North 
Pole, so did all her thoughts, desires, affections, turn 
to the spot where Jesus resided. Even when sleeping 
at night she loved to lie with her face turned towards 
Him who was the desire of her heart, saying to Him, 
no doubt, as the Spouse of the Canticle, "I sleep, but 
my heart watches." She would often, when passing out- 
side the chapel, prostrate in adoration before Our Lord, 
and kiss in devout affection the door which led into 
His Presence. In her eager desire to add to the num- 
ber of her visits to the Blessed Sacrament, she used to 
contrive to leave a book, or something, in the chapel, 
which would give her an excuse for a few moments of 
adoration of Our Lord. She used often to implore per- 
mission to spend the entire night in the presence of the 
Blessed Sacrament, ingenuously urging " that it was 
impossible to sleep when one knew He was there." In 
the early days after her arrival at the convent, it had 
been considered advisable not to put her name down 
among the night watchers; but as soon as she found out 
what had been done, she was quite inconsolable, and 
some compensation in other ways had to be made to 
her before she could be persuaded to dry her tears. 

The time spent in the sanctuary was always too short 
for her, and she was often heard to say, when the hour 
of adoration was over, "What! is it really time to go? 
But we have only just begun! " St. Augustine wrote 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 83 

in one of his works, " Give me a heart which truly 
loves, and it will understand my meaning." * We also 
must require from a heart that it should love, in order 
that it should understand what we have got to say. 
One day when the bell had rung for the Community to 
go to bed, and all, with the exception of those who were 
watching before the Blessed Sacrament, were resting 
for the night, the pious victim of the Blessed Sacra- 
ment having satisfied the obligation of obedience to the 
Eule by retiring to her cell with the others, finding 
nothing so sweet as to watch near her Beloved, got up 
from the camp bedstead where she had thrown herself 
down, all dressed, and taking the quilt which served for 
her to rest her head upon when she was worn out, spent 
the remainder of the night in the cloister adjoining 
the church. The nuns on coming out from Matins, 
or from watching before the Blessed Sacrament, were 
astonished to find her stretched on the bare boards of 
the cloister, having succumbed to sleep, which, for once, 
had triumphed over her resolution. 

This ardent love of hers for the Blessed Sacrament 
showed itself everywhere, and in all things; in the 
smallest, as in the greatest. For instance, if it was a 
question of sweeping the stalls in the choir, in that 
part of the church which is reserved for the nuns, she 

* " Give me a lover, and he will understand what I say. Give me 
a man of desires, one who hungers. Give me in this desert a pilgrim 
who is athirst. Give me one who is sighing after the eternal fountain 
— he will understand what I say. But if my words fall on cold ears 
they will have no sense." — St. Augustine in Johan., tract XXY. — 
Translated by M. Allies. 



84 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

found in this common and ordinary occupation, because 
by its means she was able to pass backwards and for- 
wards before the little opening from whence one could 
see the Sacred Host, an excuse for satisfying her love 
and devotion. As soon as she reached this spot, her 
work made no further progress; she could not tear 
herself away from It; whilst her hands mechanically 
dusted the step and supports on each side of the grille, 
her eyes and heart were fixed on the monstrance which 
held the object of all her love. When the Blessed 
Sacrament was exposed in the inner grille, for the ben- 
efit of the Community, it was a great consolation to 
this holy novice to place herself in the middle of the 
choir, so as to get nearer the Sacred Host and obtain a 
better view of It; there she remained motionless, and, 
as it were, rapt in an ecstasy of love. When, however, 
to avoid singularity it was thought better to forbid her 
this outward manifestation of her ardent love, at the 
word of her Superior she submitted humbly; but the 
sacrifice was one of which God alone knows all the 
value. 

W T hat we are now going to relate may appear very 
insignificant to some who only care for what appears 
great in the eyes of the world; but for those souls of 
whom Our Lord spoke when He said, "I give Thee 
thanks, Father, Lord of Heaven and earth ! because 
Thou hast hidden these things from the wise and the 
prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones"* — to 
these souls these little details will not be without a cer- 
tain interest and attraction. Let us, then, allow the 

* St. Luke x. 21. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 85 

Sister, from whose narrative these details are drawn, to 
give us her account of it. 

"We are in the habit, as is customary in all cases 
when the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, of placing sev- 
eral lighted candles on each side of the monstrance 
where the Blessed Sacrament is placed. Thus when, 
during the night, one of the candles had nearly burned 
down, or had gone out, knowing the happiness it was to 
our dear Sister of the Infant Jesus to approach Our Lord, 
we handed over to her the care of replacing them with- 
out appearing to attach much importance to the duty. 
Never shall we forget the profound respect and rever- 
ence with which she acquitted herself of this office, 
which to her was such an enviable privilege. Before 
she left the spot she would respectfully and lovingly 
kiss the bars which separate our choir from the sanc- 
tuary, where the Blessed Sacrament was exposed, and 
when doing so she reminded us of that beautiful pas- 
sage in the fourth book of ' The Following of Christ: y 
' For who, humbly approaching to the fountain of 
sweetness, doth not carry thence some little sweetness? 
Or who, standing by a copious fire, doth not derive 
therefrom some little heat? And Thou art a fountain 
ever full and overflowing. Thou art afire always burn- 
ing and never failing. Wherefore, if I may not draw 
out of the fulness of the fountain, nor drink to satiety, 
I will at least set my mouth to the opening of this 
heavenly pipe, that so I may draw thence some little 
drops to allay my thirst, and may not wholly wither 
away.'* 

* A Following of Christ," fourth book, c. iv. 



86 CLARE VATJGHAN. 

" It would almost seem superfluous, after all we have 
said with regard to the ardent love of our holy novice 
for the Sacrament of the Altar, to speak of -the fervor 
of her Communions, and of the profound self-abase- 
ment with which she assisted every day at the Holy 
Sacrifice of the Mass. It was, above all, at Mass that 
she united herself with Jesus our Victim, and offered 
herself with Him for the salvation of sinners. This 
spirit of reparation was, it may be said, the distinctive 
character of the tender piety of Sister Mary Clare of 
the Infant Jesus. To expiate the outrages which Our 
Lord receives in the Sacrament of the Altar, and to ob- 
tain the conversion of *poor sinners, was the object of 
all her desires. Her prayers and her intentions were 
all directed to this sublime end, and thus she had a 
special devotion to the Litany of Separation which is 
recited every evening by the daughters of St. Francis 
in the Community at Amiens. Hardly had the first 
words been pronounced than her head was turned 
towards the tabernacle, and with clasped hands and 
eyes fixed on the Sacred Host, she answered every in- 
vocation with the greatest fervor. This exercise of rep- 
aration was so dear to her, and took such a promi- 
nent place in her thoughts, that even in her sleep, or 
when she w r as not fully conscious of what she was doing, 
she used sometimes to put her cord round her neck as 
if to pray, and then, when entirely awake, she would 
repeat with every breath she drew, ' my God, Thou 
art not loved ! — Thou art so constan tly offended ! ' Then 
sometimes she would draw deep sighs, and after a few 
minutes' silence would continue, ' My God! behold me; 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 87 

Thou hast given me a body; I offer it once more to 
Thee; strike it — strike me, but spare poor sinners/ 
And then she would give herself a severe discipline. ' I 
consent/ she said, another time, f to remain on earth 
till the end of the world, if by that means I could save 
one single soul/ On another occasion she was heard 
to cry, ' my God, where is Thy divine justice? Thou 
hast given it up; there is no sign of anything but Thy 
mercy on earth; and yet sinners continue to offend 
Thee! No, beloved Lord, Thou art not loved. But I 
love Thee, or at least I desire to love Thee!' 

" Then she would repeat the Parce Domine. At the 
hour when this angelic soul was earning for herself 
and for sinners that satisfaction which is exacted in or- 
der to complete the price of the ransom offered by the 
Eedeemer of mankind — according to that wonderful 
word of St. Paul, who says, ' I fill up those things that 
are wanting of the sufferings of Christ * * — at that same 
hour of the silent, solitary night, a young girl of the 
world, a victim — uncrowned— of its laws and exigencies, 
is returning home, worn out with fatigue and excite- 
ment. As her carriage glides past the wall of the con- 
vent she hears the bell calling its voluntary recluses to 
prayer, and perhaps she says to herself, ■ What is the 
use of nuns ?' I will tell you; it is to expiate. After 
this night of enjoyment which you have spent at a ball 
or a theatre, another night will come — a night of agony 
and extremity of suffering. You will then lie on your 
bed, face to face with eternity, which you must encoun- 
ter alone, and without assistance. You do not dare, 

* Colossians i. 24. 



88 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

or perhaps cannot pray; but some one has prayed for 
you; and doing violence to Heaven has obtained what 
you were not worthy of hoping for. That is the use of 
nuns. At this moment there is only question of the 
word of Our Lord, e Amen, amen, I say to you, that you 
shall lament and weep, but the world will rejoice; but 
I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and 
your joy no man shall take from you/ * Each has his 
portion. On the one hand, tears; but tears which are 
not without sweetness; on the other, pleasures; but 
pleasures which are not without bitterness, and which 
but too often are precursors of eternal woe. 

" Sister Mary Clare had been offered her choice, and 
her choice had not caused her much hesitation. Like 
Jesus Christ, who had been offered joys and had pre- 
ferred the Cross, she desired no other heritage, and, 
strange to say, she found this portion the most precious, 
this chalice the most inebriating; and so in accepting 
the sacrifice asked of her she had, even for her happiness 
in this world, chosen 'the better part/ Let us listen to 
the holy transports — we were almost going to say the 
delirious accents — which sometimes escaped from her 
heart and were poured from her lips. In reading them 
one would almost think one had come on a page from 
the life of St. Mary Magdalene of Pazzi, that great 
saint who, transported with divine love, used to go and 
ring the convent bell in the middle of the night in or- 
der to invite all men to come and do homage to her Di- 
vine Spouse. '0 Love, my beloved Love!' Sister 
Mary Clare would exclaim, ' how happy I am to be 

* John xvi. 20, 22. 



CLARE V AUG HAN. 89 

here! Everything breathes of the love of Thee; every- 
thing speaks to me of Thy love. What intense happi- 
ness it is to me to think of it! When I meet a nun, I 
say to myself, Love, it is Thou who hath called her! 
and thus with all the Sisters. I can never help repeat- 
ing, Love, since it is Thy love, and Thine alone, 
which hath called her to be Thy spouse! Jesus, my 
God, how I love thee! I love Thee enormously; I love 
Thee alone, and shall die of love unless Thou lovest me/ 

" Strange to relate, it was in French that our Sister 
expressed herself so fluently on these occasions, God per- 
mitting it, no doubt, for the greater edification of the 
Community; for being but imperfectly acquainted with 
our language, she preferred in her ordinary exercises of 
devotion and prayers to make use of the English lan- 
guage. At times, such as we are alluding to, she was 
so utterly absorbed in God that she was insensible to 
everything. Nothing she heard or saw made any im- 
pression upon her; the most deafening noise going on 
around her, her name being called, and the efforts made 
to get her out of this state had no effect upon her. But 
at the word of the Mother Abbess, or if the Mistress of 
Novices addressed her, in the name of obedience she 
recovered at once the use of her senses, and could join 
the rest of the Eeligious in going to the choir. 

" Once she happened to find herself alone with one 
of her Sister novices at the half -hour's adoration during 
the day-time; they fastened the door to prevent being 
taken by surprise, and, with ropes around their necks, 
prostrated in the middle of the choir, recited in this 
position the prayers of reparation. The young Sister 



90 CLARE VAUQHAN. 

who was with her did not dare to remain long in this 
position for fear of being seen, but Sister Mary Clare 
lay there without moving, till her companion, hearing a 
slight noise outside, ran to her to tell her of it. It was 
not without much difficulty that she could rouse her 
from the profound abstraction into which she was 
plunged." 

Nothing, however, could better reveal the interior 
dispositions of immolation of this soul, whose one in- 
stinct was reparation, than an heroic project which she 
formed in company with another Sister, from whose lips 
we derive the story. 

Very near the spot occupied by Sister Mary Clare in 
choir, a picture is hung representing one of the most 
touching scenes of the Passion of Our Lord, the Scourg- 
ing at the Pillar. The eyes of the novice therefore 
were continually being drawn towards this picture, and 
neither they, nor her heart, could detach themselves 
from it. This, then, was what occurred to her. 

But before telling our readers, we feel we must pre- 
pare their minds a little for what follows, lest perhaps 
some might find exaggeration or improbability in the 
story. 

Perhaps there is no one who has not once in the 
course of their lives felt, when confronted with some 
danger, real or imaginary, what is called the sensation 
of vertigo. Those who have traversed the mountain 
passes of the Alps or Pyrenees, on the edge of abysses, 
which would appear practicable only to the foot of the 
wild goat, know what this sensation is like. Vertigo is 
a sort of oscillation of a natural instinct which balances 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 91 

between two opposing forces, one of which attracts and 
the other repels. Sister Mary Clare had sounded the 
profound abysses of the humiliations and sorrows of the 
Man-God, and a pious vertigo, similar to the holy folly 
spoken of by the great apostle, had taken possession of 
her. Nature, on the one hand, revolted from the ter- 
rible spectacle, and grace on the other was, as it were, 
fascinated and carried away by it. Let us see what she 
proposes to one of her Sisters, who listens to her with 
an admiration not unmingled with awe: 

" Do you wish to love Our Lord? " she asked, " Un- 
doubtedly," was the answer. 

" Then listen," said she, " listen. We will go and 
try to find a big cord, as well as the crown of thorns 
which is in the noviceship; then we will ask leave to re- 
main alone to-night to watch before the Blessed Sacra- 
ment. After Matins (if we get leave), when all the nuns 
have gone to bed, we will shut ourselves in, and you will 
fasten me to the bars of the grille with the rope which 
I shall fasten round my neck; then I shall put on the 
crown of thorns; Our Lord will forgive us for extin- 
guishing for a few moments the sanctuary lamp; then 
you will provide yourself with a discipline, and will use 
it with all your strength, so that I shall be all bleeding; 
then we will prostrate and offer ourselves as victims of 
reparation to Jesus in the Holy Sacrament. ' Behold 
us!' we shall say, '0 Lord, it is for love of Thee, to 
make reparation to Thee, to obtain salvation for sinners, 
that we are in this state ' ; then we will recite eight 
times for this intention the Litanies of Separation, and 
fifty times the Farce Domine" 



92 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

This, then, was the scheme formed by her who was 
called, and signed herself in her letters, the Victim of 
the Blessed Sacrament. If it was not put into execu- 
tion, it was only because the Mother Abbess would not 
give permission for anyone to remain in chapel after the 
rest of the Religious left it. 

With what offences, then, had this mortified soul, who 
was ever so hard on herself, to reproach her conscience 
with ? Was it with the guilt of sin ? She had preserved 
her baptismal innocence unstained. The pleasures of 
the world, in which she had mixed but rarely, had not 
even thrown a shadow upon the delicacy of her con- 
science; and since she had sought the shade of the 
cloister, this lily of purity, protected evermore in the 
closed garden of the Spouse, had but grown each day 
in grace and beauty. The faults of which she accused 
herself with such anguish were but the slight faults 
into which nature is liable to be surprised — passing 
distractions, a forgetfulness, more or less involuntary, 
of some prescription of the Rule. And with this 
virtue of innocence she united that of love of suffer- 
ing. It would seem as if God intended to give in to 
the desires, as one might say, of her life, that in its due 
measure it resembled that of her Saviour in being one 
long cross and martyrdom. She suffered almost contin- 
ually from headaches which caused her the acutest suf- 
fering. The violent pains which she endured in other 
parts of her body obliged her sometimes to lie down on 
the ground, but no pains that she was called upon to 
endure made her look upon suffering otherwise than as 
a dearly loved friend and sister. Her one desire was 
to be on the Cross with Jesus. 



CLARE VAUGHAX. 93 

" Believe me/' she wrote on one occasion, " the most 
admirable science is to know how to suffer; the great- 
est cleverness is to know how to suffer well; and, in 
fine,, the happiest fate is never to be a single moment 
without suffering."" " A life without crosses/' she wrote 
again, "is a life without love. . . . We shall have an 
eternity for enjoyment, but only in this life -can we 
suffer/' 

It is easy to understand that with these dispositions 
no complaint ever found its way to her lips. Who does 
not know the solace and consolation it is, in the midst 
of one's sufferings, to confide one's troubles to one's 
friends and those who come to visit us? It would ap- 
pear as if pain partly borne by compassion was lighter 
and less overwhelming. Sister Mary Clare, however, 
was exempt from this weakness. To see her, calm and 
recollected, one would think it was some one else who 
was suffering. If she was questioned about her health, 
her answers, though ever truthful, were short and to 
the point. 

The day she entered the noviceship, she said to one of 
the Eeligious, with a great air of satisfaction, "Every- 
one here is very fond of suffering; is it not so?" 

Later on, when meeting any of the Sisters who hap- 
pened to be ill or infirm, she would kiss the hem of her 
habit behind her back with the greatest veneration, 
looking upon her as the favored spouse of Jesus Christ. 

One of the nuns, admiring the fervor with which 
this holy novice prayed with arms extended in the shape 
of a cross, asked her if the position did not cause her 
great fatigue. 



94 CLARE V AUG HAN. 

"Yes," she answered with perfect simplicity, "it is 
rather painful, but don't say anything about it; they 
might stop me from doing it, and I am so glad to be 
able to do something for poor sinners. The first time 
I saw our Sisters praying with arms extended, I was so 
enchanted; it was the greatest happiness to me." And 
then when the Sister begged of her at least not to lift 
her arms so high in order to tire herself less, " Oh, no," 
she said, at the same time thanking her affectionately, 
"I cannot possibly do that." Once during her last ill- 
ness, some one having asked her what she thought of 
suffering, she said, " Nothing is more agreeable in the 
sight of Our Lord; but how small is the number of 
those who love to suffer!" The same person, having 
been left with her during Vespers to take care of her, 
heard her addressing Oar Lord in these words: 

u My God, is there any other way by which I can get 
to Heaven, except by the Cross?" And then, having 
recollected herself more deeply, she went on: "No, no, 
it is by the Cross that Thou didst enter into glory, and 
it is by the Cross that Thou wiliest that we should ar- 
rive there. my Jesus!" she continued, "with how 
many thorns hast Thou not strewn the pathway of those 
who wish to follow Thee?" In saying this she made 
signs as of a person who was feeling about and picking 
up something with much labor and difficulty; then 
sighing deeply, she continued, " But, my God, Thou 
goest too quick; Thou goest too quick, I cannot follow 
Thee; if I try to get on, the thorns pierce my feet and 
I can no longer walk. If I look at Thee, they enter 
my eyes and blind me." Then, after a moment or two's 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 95 

reflection, she said these words, "Everything passes 
away on this earth, everything passes away; " meaning, 
no doubt, that the time of trial is short, and the troubles 
of life, represented by the thorns which we find strewn 
on our pathway, should not discourage us nor make us 
slacken our footsteps on the road which Jesus has given 
us the example of treading, and to which He calls us. 

The continual voluntary mortifications which she im- 
posed upon herself are easily explained by her love of 
suffering. But it was not only in the practice of ex- 
terior mortification that she delighted; she found even 
greater satisfaction in what is also a thousand times 
more pleasing and acceptable in the sight of God, who 
looks above all to the sacrifice of will and heart, namely, 
in the practice of interior mortification. 

A letter of hers, which has been preserved, dating 
from about the time of her clothing, shows some of the 
difficulties which she had to contend with, and also gives 
proof of the happy spirit in which she met them all. 

"I was delighted to hear from you the other day. 
We have just finished Vespers, and my Mistress of Nov- 
ices has given me permission to answer your letter. 
You have never thought, I hope, that I have forgotten 
you because you have not heard from me. But you 
know how little time a Eeligious can have for writing 
letters, and more especially a Poor Clare. I contin- 
ually pray for you to the Sacred Heart of our dear Lord, 
that He may make known His Will to you, and that 
you may have grace and courage to follow it. Oh, 

N , I am indeed happy; the Blessed Sacrament is 

exposed here night and day; we have Benediction every 



96 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

day, two Masses every day, and at night-time we rise to 
sing His praises. I will tell you a little of our life. 
We fast the entire year except on Sundays, and on that 
day we have two meals. Dinner is at twelve, and before 
and after dinner we say together the Miserere. We 
sleep in our habit; the bed is as hard as death, but I 
sleep very well notwithstanding. There are no lay-sisters 
here, we do all the work ourselves. The Mother Ab- 
bess herself goes nearly every afternoon to the kitchen 
to help clean the dishes with us. I go to the kitchen 
every day, and help to do the work; yesterday I cleaned 
the buttery, greasy dishes with my hands! It was tor- 
ture at first, and I thought I should have been sick, but 
you know for the love of God, how powerful that is, and 
how easy all things become when it is for Him that we 
work. I sweep the stairs, also, every day. If you come 
here you will have to do all that sort of thing, and God 
will give you grace to do it all with joy and happiness. 
" Every day we say the faults we have committed in 
the noviceship. The happiness here really surpasses 
all I ever thought of or expected I could find, and you 
know there is no true happiness without trials and 
without the Cross. Jesus is never without His Cross. 
Oh, do you not envy my beloved Teresa, gone so soon 
to her home? It was indeed a very great shock and 
suffering to me when I first heard of her death, but 
now I can only say, when I think of it, Alleluia, Alle- 
luia! though I must add, I feel dreadfully inclined to 
envy her bright death. I feel she is always with me 
now, and I trust she prays that I may join her soon 
amongst the band of virgins who follow the Lamb. I 



CLARE VATJGHAN. 9? 

thought of dear Maymie when I heard of her death. 
Koger told me she had felt it deeply. Best of loves to 
her and to all, and tell her I shall pray much for her. 
. . . Ten thousand thanks for all your prayers for me. 
Let us unite together in spirit before the tabernacle in 
beseeching our Beloved Lord to have mercy on poor sin- 
ners. Farewell, clearest N , ever pray for me; let 

us love the Lord Our God with our whole hearts while 
there is yet time — ( A night cometh when no man can 
work/ 

"Nearly our whole life is spent before the Blessed 
Sacrament. If you ever think of coming here, I advise 
you to take care of your health, as the Keligious like 
postulants who are strong, for it requires a strong con- 
stitution to follow the Eule of our Seraphic Mother St. 
Clare. Pray hard that it may be the Holy Will of God 
that I may have sufficient health to take the habit, for 
I am afraid it is becoming an obstacle. Adieu." 




CHAPTER VIII. 

ON Sister Mary Clare's first arrival at the convent 
she had immense difficulty in getting accustomed to 
the food. Her natural repugnance to it was extreme, 
so much so as to cause frequent vomitings; but nothing 
abated her courage. Her greatest penance was to see 
herself better fed than the rest of the Community; she 
continually entreated that she might be served like the 
rest, giving as a reason that she would end by getting 
accustomed to it. Finally, she was allowed her own 
way. Notwithstanding this great repugnance, how- 
ever, she would never choose those dishes which were 
most to her taste; on the contrary, it was always those 
she disliked most to which she gave the preference. If 
sometimes she sent away her plate, conquered by this 
feeling of nausea, she would instantly reproach herself 
for her faint-heartedness, and, sending for it back, 
would try hard to get a little down. Moreover, as if all 
this did not suffice to satiate her desire for mortifica- 
tion, she used to mix earth with what she ate, and put 
cinders into her soup and the rest of her food, begging 
at the same time her sister novice who used to see her 
doing it, " for the love of God " to say nothing about 
it. The Sister was so faithful to the confidence reposed 
in her that it was only after Clare's death that she 
spoke of it. She has also told us that Sister Mary 
Clare used to exchange with her little pieces of fresh 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 99 

bread, whenever she could,, for stale pieces. On one 
occasion she ingenuously managed to secure and eat a 
piece of bread which she had carefully kept for some 
days till it was mildewed. When she was given some- 
thing in particular which she rather liked, she used to 
say it was indulging her sensuality, and unless she was 
told to take it out of obedience she would refuse to 
touch it. One thing which at first cost her much to over- 
come, was to wash plates and dishes after dinner in the 
kitchen; it caused her the greatest nausea, and it was 
only by lifting up her eyes to God to ask Him to give 
her strength to conquer herself that she managed to get 
the better of her nature. " This practice is a great pleas- 
ure to me," she used to say, " because it may be made 
very meritorious for the conversion of sinners." Thus 
on Sundays, when her Mistress used to keep her at her 
side, she used to say to her, laughingly, "Yes, my 
Mother, it is all very well for you to say to me, 
' Oome, come/ but you know very well I want to go to 
the kitchen." 

It was whilst suffering from these difficulties that 
she writes the following letter to her sister Gladys: 

€€ I was so delighted to hear all about you from Ma- 
dame de Nanteuil. I wrote yesterday to , enclosing 

a letter I had just received from Mary Bellasis, giving 
me an account of dear Teresa's happy death. I begged 
him to send it on to you. I hope you still continue to 
pray constantly for me to the Sacred Heart of our dear 
Lord. There are so many trials and difficulties in the 
religious life, that if He does not support me with His 
grace, I feel I shall never be able to remain here. The 



100 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

last few days the food disgusts me more than ever. I 
am cowardly enough (alas!) to wish to hide myself, 
very often, when the bell rings for dinner! One re- 
quires courage, but I hope always, and there is nothing 
one may not expect from the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 
It is enough to know that His power is unlimited, and 
He will never abandon me. From what you say about 
yourself I am sure Our Lord loves you very much. He 
gives you indeed a piece of the true Cross in those agon- 
izing headaches you speak of. I am still very happy 
here, more so than ever, but you know the devil never 
leaves one in peace. I have much better spirits here 
than I ever had whilst I was in the world. I never felt 
really happy there, but here the very air breathes of the 
Blessed Sacrament. Once more don't forget to pray 
for me. Ask of our Blessed Lord that the day may 
come when I may be like a wax taper, silently consumed 
before Him in the Sacrament of His love." 

Y/hen she was allowed the favor of wearing sandals, 
she always managed to leave them anywhere but on her 
feet; and when her attention was drawn to it she an- 
swered, " Oh, I forget them as often as I can." This 
was only in order to suffer the more; for summer and 
winter alike her feet were always icily cold, and in or- 
der to induce her to warm them, it was necessary to 
give her strict injunctions to do so; and even then she 
found means of mortifying herself afresh. When she 
lay down to rest, she managed so as to lie always in one 
position, declining positively to make herself more com- 
fortable, and she was thus able to find an occasion of 
practising penance. She was greatly distressed at not 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 101 

being allowed to take her week in the kitchen in turn 
with the other novices and young Religious lately pro- 
fessed; and when it was represented to her that she was 
not strong enough to lift the heavy pans, she used 
to say, "but I am as strong as a giant." In the last 
days of her illness a Eeligious who was with her wished 
to give her a little cushion in order to raise her head. 
She refused it with a gentle smile; and when later on she 
consented to take it, it was because the Sister persuaded 
her to accept it with the intention of administering to 
Our Lord, suffering in her person, as in the same way 
St. Gertrude was persuaded to use some slight allevia- 
tion with the like intention. 

Inheriting as she did, in all its integrity, the spirit of 
her blessed Father, St. Francis, who used to talk of 
" his Lady Poverty," she was, like him, fascinated by 
the beauty and charm of this virtue, and it would be 
hard to say to what sublime height she carried this 
spirit of detachment and self-abnegation. 

Utterly dead to herself and to all created things, her 
heart was prepared to receive in abundance all those 
gifts and treasures promised to the "poor in spirit." 
Yes, it was whilst despising and trampling under foot 
all the vain and passing goods of this life that her soul 
entered into possession of infinite and eternal riches. 
God Himself became her sole good, her only portion 
and inheritance; finding in her a heart which was 
empty and void of all things, He took His delight in 
it, and made it the place of His repose. As our holy 
novice had never clung to any earthly tie, nothing ever 
troubled the calm serenity of her soul. In life, as in 



102 GLARE VAUGHAN. 

death, she enjoyed up to the very last a perfect calm 
and unalterable peace, precious fruits of her absolute 
detachment from creatures and her love of God. 

" It is in vain/' she said, shortly before her death, 
"that I search for motives which would inspire me 
with fear for the judgment of God; do what I can, I am 
never able to succeed in alarming myself; confidence 
in God always seems prominent in all my thoughts, and 
absorbs all others." 

How, indeed, could fear have any hold over a heart 
which was so animated with generosity! Had she not 
given up all for God? Was it not for His sake that she 
had separated herself from her family, though she loved 
it so tenderly? Nevertheless these sacrifices which the 
world reckons so high were simply nothing in her sight; 
she reckoned all things "but as dung " that she might 
" gain Christ." * 

Thus with what ardor did she embrace the practice 
of perfect poverty. Her sole desire had always been to 
become one day a " Poor Clare," because the most ab- 
solute poverty is observed in this holy Order, no one be- 
longing to it possessing anything whatsoever, and the 
Eeligious living entirely on alms. 

Shortly after her arrival, speaking to a young Sister 
about St. Francis of Assisi, she said, "The spirit of 
that great servant of God is the spirit of poverty. Tak- 
ing example of him, I desire that holy Poverty, which 
he calls his mistress and queen, should also be my treas- 
ure and all my good." " I see you are too fond of our 
Father St. Francis," the Eeligious answered, " and are 

* Philip, iii. 8. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 103 

too much animated by his spirit not to be sure of becom- 
ing his child." 

"I would give anything to be one/' she said. " My 
mother always told me I should become a Poor Clare; 
it was for that reason she gave me the name of Clare in 
baptism; hence my great devotion to that saint." A 
Eeligious asked her one day if, when she was living in 
the world, she expected to find such poverty as existed 
in the Order of Poor Clares. "No," she replied, "I 
did not think you would be quite so poor; but I am de- 
lighted to find it so, I am so fond of being poor; I am 
passionately devoted to poverty." 

To give another instance. One day she manifested a 
desire to one of the Eeligious to write to her sister Te- 
resa (afterwards a Sister of Charity), to beg of her to 
buy some pictures for her to distribute in the Commun- 
ity, when the Eeligious suggested to her that she had 
better ask her Sister to send her a little crucifix to put 
on the prie-dieit of her cell, in place of the cardboard 
one she had found there. 

" Oh, no," she answered quickly, "I certainly shall 
not ask her that! I am so fond of being poor, I infin- 
itely prefer that little cross to the finest crucifix in the 
world, because it is more in accordance with holy Pov- 
erty." 

When she washed her feet (she would never consent 
to having any assistance in so doing) she used to take a 
piece of brick instead of using soap; and when she was 
given some- common soap, she used to say, " I don't 
want that; pray give me my dear red soap, I prefer it 
to any other." 



104 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

" I should think so," said the Sister to whom this was 
addressed, " because it is more according to holy Pov- 
erty, is not that the reason?" " This soap is not dear, 
and lasts longer; that is the reason why I like it." 

Love of Poverty made her love the poor. " I was so 
pleased," she said, " when I came across poor people in 
England, I was always longing to be poor, too, and I 
should have been so glad to change dress and position 
with them; now that I am poor I am so happy." 

When Sister Mary Clare arrived at Amiens, the Ke- 
ligious were much astonished on opening her trunks to 
find that she had hardly any linen, and the little she 
had was so coarse and common that many servants would 
have been better provided. 

No one liked to ask her the reason; but, later on, of 
her own accord she acquainted the Mistress with it. 

" When I was coming here," she said, "somebody 
told me that my linen was too fine and good for a Poor 
Clare, and that I should never be allowed to wear it; so 
I changed it with that of one of our servants. I also 
had the dress I wore when I came here made expressly 
for me, besides taking my maid's bonnet instead of my 
own, in order to be dressed more plainly. Papa, when 
he saw me in this get-up, began to laugh and tease me 
about it, but I did not mind a bit; on the contrary, I 
felt much happier in servant's clothes than I did in those 
I generally wore." It was with the same longing to be 
absolutely poor that she continually asked her Mistress 
of Novices to be allowed to give away the few little 
things she still possessed. 

But the latter always answered that it was best to 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 105 

wait till her profession, and that everything she had 
would then be given to the poor. This postponement 
did not suit her wishes at all; and on returning to the 
noviceship, after the ceremony of her clothing, she 
wished to cut up into little bits the embroidered pocket 
handkerchiefs which had been given her on that occa- 
sion. " I shall never use it again," she said; " I have 
shaken off all the vanities of this world." But her Mis- 
tress would not allow it, so she had to resign herself. 
Once when she happened to come across an old sandal, 
which was worn out and fit for nothing, she took it up 
and kissed it, as much from humility as from love of 
holy Poverty. A very short time after she had been 
allowed to walk barefoot, one of her Sisters in religion, 
seeing the great satisfaction with which she did so, said, 
"How pleased you seem to be with yourself ! You look 
quite radiant!" 

" Oh, yes," she cried, "when I was in London and I 
used to meet poor people in the street going barefoot, I 
used to think of the Poor Clares, and it used to make 
me quite envious, I was so jealous of them! " 

" That is all very well at present, in the heat of sum- 
mer," continued the Sister, "but when it is cold it is 
quite another thing. Nature will then assert herself. 
Now own, does she not already sometimes make herself 
heard a little?" 

" Yes," answered she, " but I don't give her an oppor- 
tunity of speaking long; " and then, with a vigorous 
thrust of her arm, "I say to her, * Silence. ' " The deter- 
mined voice with which she pronounced these words 
showed the great empire she already possessed over her- 



106 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

self, and proved how little she yielded to nature in 
small things, as in great. 

At the time when she was first attacked by the dis- 
ease which carried her off so rapidly, being very suscep- 
tible to cold, some plain but warm woollen clothing was 
bought for her; this she only wore through obedience, 
and not without some distress, saying how much too fine 
it was, that no one else wore anything like it, and that 
she was no longer a poor Clare. 

It was the same with regard to a blanket which was 
also bought for her about the same time; but again obe- 
dience triumphed over her love of poverty and of holy 
mortification. 

Humility, according to the doctrine held by the saints, 
is only the courage with which we apply truths to our- 
selves with all their rigorous consequences. What then 
is truth as applied to man? It is that of ourselves we 
are nothing, since our being and faculties come from 
God, who at any moment can withdraw them. A slight 
disorder of the brain can cause the greatest intellect to 
lose his genius, the wisest man his knowledge and science, 
even to reason itself. Our virtue may succumb to the 
very first temptation, the slightest accident may destroy 
beauty; and this is because we possess nothing good of 
ourselves, since sin alone belongs to us by nature, and is 
our own; everything else comes to us from God, and must 
return to Him. . . . Finally, it is because we are of our- 
selves incapable of any good, even of a thought or a 
word useful to salvation, as St. Paul teaches; thus each 
one of us may say of himself, The evil I commit is my 
very own; but the good I do is neither absolutely mine, 
nor is it absolutely and purely good. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 107 

Sister Mary Clare had not only meditated upon these 
incontrovertible truths, but had long loved and prac- 
tised them, and from them she drew the following defi- 
nite conclusions: 

Firstly, I ought not to esteem myself; on the contrary, 
I should have the lowest opinion of myself, reserving all 
honor and glory for God alone, who is the sole source 
of all good. 

Secondly, I should not seek esteem and praise, they 
belong to God alone; to desire them for myself would 
be to desire that injustice and falsehood should be com- 
mitted. 

Thirdly, it is a duty for me to love a hidden life, 
humiliation, and contempt, because those are the con- 
ditions due to nothingness and sin, conditions to which 
Jesus Christ first submitted Himself, and to which we, 
following His example, should also submit ourselves. 

It was upon these principles, which were strongly im- 
printed on the mind of our holy novice, that she regu- 
lated her interior life and her outward conduct. Ac- 
tions with her responded perfectly with words. It was 
in these words that one of her Sisters formulated the 
judgment which all the Community had pronounced 
upon this chosen soul. 

It was not enough for Sister Mary Clare to despise her- 
self profoundly, she also wished to see herself the object 
of universal contempt. Learned in the schools of true 
wisdom, she recognized the vanity and nothingness of 
all the frivolous advantages which the world prizes so 
highly, and she generously renounced them in order to 
attach herself to God alone, desiring only His love in 
return. 



108 GLARE VAUGHAN. 

We are fortunately able to give the following touch- 
ing details regarding her profound humility. 

On her first arrival she had been given in charge of a 
Sister, whose duty it was to help her to arrange her cell, 
and to dress herself, as well as to give her all necessary 
assistance. Sister Mary Clare soon discovered that an 
exception was being made in her favor; accordingly she 
would not suffer anything to be done for her, saying 
pleasantly that Our Lord did not come into the world to 
be waited upon, but to wait on others. She also cheer- 
fully undertook all those little practices of humility 
which, comprise the special duties of a novice, such as 
sweeping the staircases, cleaning and supplying with 
water the little fountain used as a lavatory; this latter 
she pretended was her special office, and she would not 
cede the right of attending to it to any one. She would 
not suffer any one to kiss her feet, as it is the custom to 
do on certain occasions among the Poor Clares; and one 
day one of the younger Eeligious having, whilst helping 
her to bed, found an opportunity of doing so out of rev- 
erence, she instantly rose, and kneeling down, exclaimed: 
" What have you done, Sister! I am going to pray to God 
to forgive you!" She had long implored of her Mis- 
tress of Novices to give her the penance of prostrating 
at the refectory door after dinner, as she had seen it prac- 
tised by several of the nuns. How happy she was on 
that day when the Mother at last acceded to her wishes; 
with what pleasure she placed herself at the door of the 
refectory and saw all the Community pass over her! 
Her joy was such that after grace was over, meeting sev- 
eral of the nuns who had not been in the refectory at the 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 109 

time her penance was performed, she instantly betook 
herself to the nearest doorway, so that she might induce 
them also to pass over her. 

But what was even more worthy of admiration was 
the fervor of spirit with which she accomplished this 
act of penance. With her, the heart had an infinitely 
greater share than the body in these practices, and what 
might be for some a simple formality became with this 
upright soul the expression of an undoubted truth. 
Athirst as she was for self-humiliation, it was with much 
repugnance that she caused the smallest to others. 
Thus did she see any other Religious practising the pen- 
ance of which we have just spoken, she instantly had 
recourse to various manoeuvres to spare them a humili- 
ation which she herself sought with the greatest ardor. 

Not only meek, but also, like her Divine Master, 
" humble of heart," she asked of a young Sister, who 
was with her most frequently, to reprove her for her 
faults every time she should see her commit one, assur- 
ing her, if she did so, of her utmost gratitude. 

"I will do it with the greatest pleasure," answered 
the other, " on condition you do me the same service." 

" How should I be able to do that? " answered Sister 
Mary Clare; ' ' I never can see other people's faults. I am 
such a sinner, I never can see any but my own! " 

Some time before her clothing, when there was to be 
a deliberation on the subject of her admission, she said 
to one of the Sisters, " I do hope my health will not be 
the cause of my rejection." "Your rejection!" said 
the Sister, " we love you a great deal too much ever to 
be able to make up our minds to send you away." 



110 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

" Oh, how good you are/' said the postulant, " to be 
so fond of an abomination like me!" 

Very shortly afterwards she happened to say without 
reflection, to a Religious who asked her how she felt, " My 
health is the only difficulty in the way of my admission, 
is it not?" But hardly had she uttered these words 
when the blood rushed to her face, and she quickly cor- 
rected herself. " What have I said? " she continued; " I 
am too great a sinner — I might even call myself a devil, 
I have sinned so much! " 

Once, as she asked one of the nuns to pray for her, 
"Are you not our sister?" the Eeligious answered, 
"and as such could we possibly forget to pray for 
you ?" 

" What ! do you look upon me as your sister ?" she 
said instantly; "indeed, I do not deserve it; I am a 
wretched creature, a great sinner." 

Some of the Community asked her the day after her 
clothing if she was happy ; also, if her underclothing 
caused her much discomfort. 

" I am perfectly happy," she answered; " this serge 
pricks me a little, but I am very fond of it." 

"And your grand cord ?" continued the other, "you 
don't say anything about that." 

" Oh, that is also very dear to me," she said ; and in 
pronouncing these words she put it to her lips and 
kissed it affectionately. 

"Yet is it very hard and coarse, your cord," said the 
other, "it does not resemble in the least the beautiful 
girdles you used to wear in the world." " Oh, I did 
not care a straw for those girdles I used to wear in the 



CLARE VAUGHAN. Ill 

world ; I certainly never kissed them out of. love ! '* 
Then another nun, who knew what pleasure she was 
giving her by saying something a little humiliating, ap- 
pearing to doubt the truth of her words, said, "I 
should have liked very much to have been present to 
see if you are really speaking the truth. " 

When she said this, an expression of joy lit up the 
countenance of the dear novice as she sweetly answered 
the person who doubted her, " Oh, thanks, thanks, 
dear Sister, for your just opinion of me ! " 

A short time before her death she desired the Mis- 
tress of Novices to burn all her letters ; and she her- 
self tore up every prayer she had composed, so that 
they might be known to none but God. 

What are we to say of Sister Mary Clare's obedience ? 
Humility and obedience maybe said to be sister virtues, 
and it is as difficult to imagine humility without obedi- 
ence as it is to conceive obedience without humility. 
All men who know and despise themselves submit 
themselves to the yoke of obedience. Is not obedience 
also the shortest and quickest road to God ? Is anything 
more pleasing to Him than the sacrifice of our own 
will ? Are there any means more secure of protecting 
us from illusion, than to do the will of those who hold 
the place of God in our regard ? Sister Mary Clare 
cherished the virtue of obedience and found her happi- 
ness in practising it ; still, she had to work in order to 
acquire this virtue in all its perfection, not only because 
in her own family she had always had her own way, but 
also because, being very fervent, she had a great desire, 
notwithstanding her feeble health, to embrace all sorts 



112 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

of penances and mortifications, and it was therefore 
necessary to restrain her. 

In her early beginning she had difficulty in submit- 
ting herself, and some of the same prohibitions had to 
be repeated twice ; but from the time of her clothing 
the whole Community had cause to admire the complete 
change which was operated in her in this respect. 
From that time she had no longer any will of her own; 
it was sufficient that a desire was expressed to her for 
her to submit at once joyfully, and with simplicity ; 
for with her, obedience was joyous, prompt, and firm. 
Her greatest fear was to be wanting in the smallest de- 
gree in the practise of this virtue. But if obedience 
oftentimes imposed a sacrifice on her fervor, she knew 
how to make double profit of it by adding to the 
merit of the good action she had been desirous of per- 
forming the still greater one of obedience, by which 
she immolated her will itself to the will of God. Anx- 
ious as she was to adorn all her actions with the precious 
merit of obedience, if sometimes such a thing happened 
to her as to forget to ask leave to perform any action, 
she at once repaired her omission by redoubled submis- 
sion and humility. As for charity, as it would be im- 
possible for any one to have a great love of God with- 
out also loving his brother, we may judge what was 
Sister Mary Clare's love for her neighbor. It was a 
real happiness for her to do anything to oblige one of 
her Sisters ; indulgent, she judged favorably of all the 
world ; devoted, she was ever ready to render any one a 
service. 

But it was, above all, for the good of her neighbor 




r m 




ENTRANCE FROM THE COURTYARD OF ST. CLARE ft 
CONVENT, AMIENS. 



CLARE VAUGHAN. 113 

that she was so anxious to sacrifice herself. . Sinners 
before everything were the objects of her solicitude ; 
with what fervor she prayed for them, with what sor- 
row she followed their wanderings and their follies ! 
The thought, above all, of the infinite misery that 
awaits them for all eternity was always urging her to 
offer herself up as a victim to obtain their conversion. 
After sinners, her greatest love was reserved for the 
poor and the afflicted, remembering the words of her 
Master, ec Whatsoever you do for the least of these little 
ones for My sake you do for Me." Every day, after 
dinner was over, she could be seen at the door of the 
enclosure carrying two dishes, one of which contained 
the soup and the other vegetables, which, according to 
the habit of the Community, were distributed among 
the poor who presented themselves there to receive alms. 
Always the first to arrive in the kitchen, for fear that 
she should be robbed of this welcome task, she acquit- 
ted herself of it with equal joy and alacrity. 

Conscious that recollection is one of the conditions 
of an interior life, and that it is in silence that God 
makes Himself heard in the soul, Sister Mary Clare 
had a most special attraction to the practise of this virtue. 
She spoke very little, as a rule, but when she did so it 
was always to the point ; being convinced that it is im- 
possible to spread one's self much abroad without los- 
ing the Presence of God, and without committing a 
multitude of little faults, which tease, if they do not 
stain, the conscience, she spoke little to man, though 
much to God. 

She was heard once to express herself thus with re- 



114 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

gard to silence: "I must seek God, I must find God; 
but where shall I find Him ?" After entering into her- 
self for a few moments, she added: "It is in silence; 
God speaks to the soul in silence, and it is in silence 
that the soul enjoys God. Our Lord does not wish 
that we should diffuse ourselves abroad, because, if we 
do, speak as lie may to our hearts, we do not hear 
Him." She also said: " There are two things which 
are extremely necessary to the soul which seeks perfec- 
tion; one is to fly the conversation of creatures, the 
other to seek that of God." 

Thus with what love she cherished silence, how faith- 
ful she was to observe it ! She carried this fidelity 
during the retreat before her clothing to such lengths 
as not to wish to answer except by signs, unless ad- 
dressed by her Superior. 

To die and to die soon, that was her great desire, her 
daily longing. She testified it continually, and on all 
occasions. " When shall I go to my only Home," she 
used to say, "to possess my God? It is so tiresome 
being upon earth!" When she heard the news of her 
sister Teresa's (in religion Sister Magdalen) death, she 
was quite unhappy at her dying before herself, and was 
full of envy at her happiness. Her Mistress told her 
then that it was quite fair that her sister should be be- 
forehand with her, since she was her elder, and ripe for 
Heaven, and that accordingly the same grace would be 
given her as soon as she had reached that degree of per- 
fection to which she was called, and that she must there- 
fore work at detaching herself more and more from her 
own will, and uniting herself more closely to Our Lord 
and Saviour. 



CLARE VA UGHAN. 115 

These words consoled her greatly, and she showed 
much good-will in trying to put them into practice in 
order to gain the much-desired reward. 

On one occasion she was speaking to one of the Kelig- 
ious of her desire to die. " Death will come some day/' 
answered the Sister, "but perhaps that is not what 
would be most pleasing to Our Lord, and if you love 
Him truly, you will only desire what is most for His 
honor and glory." 

" I should not ask to die," said the novice, " if I 
knew for certain that I should give more glory to God 
by living. But no one could persuade St. Philip Neri, 
whose zeal for the conversion of sinners was so great, 
to ask God to prolong his life in order that he might 
continue his labors. Only St. Martin is known to have 
said to Our Lord that he was ready to live in order to 
work for His glory and the salvation of souls. If you 
could see into my heart you would understand how 
much more I should glorify God by dying than by liv- 
ing longer." 

This desire for death, however, was not with her the 
fruit of a self-love which only longs to escape further 
labors and sufferings. If, like St. Paul, she longed 
" to be dissolved/' it was only because her body was an 
obstacle to her perfect union with her heavenly Spouse. 

This same longing desire showed itself in other ways. 
She used always to like to shut the windows of the at- 
tics, and, whilst doing so, would remain there long in 
contemplation of the heavens; and when it was re- 
marked to her that it was contrary to the rule of en- 
closure to look out of the windows, because they were 



116 CLARE V A UGH AN. 

in front of houses from which the Eeligious could be 
seen, she was much astonished to* hear any mention of 
houses in front, for the simple reason that she had nev- 
er even so much as seen them! 

Often, when she was in bed at night, she used to ask 
that the curtains of her bed might not be entirely closed, 
so that she might see her dear sky. 

" When I first get to Heaven," she said one day 
towards the end of her last illness, " I shall be out of my 
mind with joy. With w 7 hat ecstasy I shall throw my- 
self into the arms of Our Blessed Lady! The angels, see- 
ing me do it, will be quite astounded, and they will ask 
each other, c What does she mean by it?' I shall an- 
swer them, ' Ah! if you had only lived in that land of 
exile as I have, if you had only suffered in a mortal 
body as I have done, you would not be astonished to see 
me transported, as I am at this moment, with joy and 
happiness because this body, which separated me from 
my Beloved, has at last fallen from me like an old worn- 
out garment, and is now no longer any obstacle to my 
union with Him/" 




CHAPTER IX. 

Several days, meanwhile, had passed away after the 
15th of October, the happy day of our dear sister's es- 
pousals with her heavenly Bridegroom, and we had even 
begun to entertain some hopes (said the Religious who 
gave us these details) that with care her health might 
be able to accustom itself to our austere life, when God, 
who appeared up till then to have supported her phys- 
ically for the time, seemed to hearken to the longing 
desires of His spouse in calling her without further de- 
lay to her eternal nuptials. 

Her health was seriously affected, first of all, by a cold, 
which was accompanied by fever. The doctor, who 
was at once called in, had no hesitation in pronouncing 
it to be a pulmonary attack, from which there was lit- 
tle or no chance of her recovery. 

What joy this news brought to the dear Sister Mary 
Clare of the Infant Jesus! At last her prayers were 
heard — she was to die! Her joy was so great on hearing 
it that her only fear was lest her satisfaction should 
have so favorable an effect on her health as to bring 
her back to life again. It was not enough for her to 
know that she was going to die; the three or four 
months, assigned as the limit of her existence by the 
doctor, already seemed much too long for her to live. 

" Death will have nothing to say to me," she used to 



118 GLARE VAUGHAN. 

say; "pray, then, to our good Lord that He may take 
me quickly to Himself." 

Sufferings she counted as nothing, and, far from 
dreading them, she received them joyfully; but the 
great, the terrible sacrifice for her was to behold the 
moment put off when she was to be set free — the term 
of her exile. 

" I was quite sure," she used to say to the Religious 
at about this time, " when I came to ask to be admitted 
here, that I had not long to live. It was the motive 
that made me so anxious to persuade my father to let 
me enter the Community; my vocation was to die here." 

Although Sister Mary Clare was thus willing to make 
this last sacrifice that God asked of her — that of her 
life — it is not to be supposed that her father could hear, 
unmoved, of the alarming state of his daughter's health. 
The hopes which he had built upon the general im- 
provement of her health for the first six months of her 
joining the Community at Amiens were suddenly dashed 
to the ground, and, in writing to the Mother Abbess, 
he expresses his great anxiety in the following terms: 

November 8th, 18 — 
"My Dear Madam: — The accounts which I re- 
ceive of my daughter's health are so distressing that I 
cannot refrain from writing to you on the subject. 
Willing, as I am, she should embrace any life, however 
austere or painful, to which God may call her, I cannot 
consent to her doing anything which would be distinct- 
ly the cause of her death, for this I do not believe to be 
the will of God. She is bound to preserve her life, 
however anxious to sacrifice it, and I, too, as her fa- 



GLARE V A UGH AN. 119 

ther, am bound to protect it against her indiscreet and 
youthful fervor. I know how painful a blow it would 
be for her to be sent home from her convent; she would 
prefer dying; but it is not a question of choice but of 
duty. I therefore, madam, appeal to you whose exper- 
ience and whose special graces in your position enable 
you to form a sounder judgment and opinion than I 
can at this distance; I appeal to you whether my be- 
loved daughter Clare ought to continue any longer in 
her present course of life. Perhaps the accounts which 
I receive are not very accurate or authentic. Perhaps, 
as she wishes to believe, she is surmounting her difficul- 
ties and trials. If so, may God be praised. But if, on 
the other hand, her constitution be sinking, and her 
life ebbing under her austerities, I feel that it is my im- 
perative duty to save her life, and snatch her, however 
reluctant, from the grave. You will write, I know, 
with entire truth and sincerity, to, 

" Madam, with most profound respect, 

" Your most humble and obedient servant, 
" Johk Vaughan." 
The Mother Abbess's letter has not been preserved, 
but we have no difficulty in guessing its contents. The 
doctor's decision had already anticipated it. For Sister 
Mary Clare's illness there was no cure. She was at- 
tacked by the rapid decline which had already carried 
off one beloved sister, Teresa, in the spring. The aus- 
terities, of which her father speaks, were not account- 
able for the terrible hereditary disease which she bore 
in her veins, and which she already knew a violent cold 
or exposure of any sort was extremely likely to rouse to 



120 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

active mischief. She writes thus to her father on the 
subject: " You have heard from our Mother Abbess 
that the doctor has pronounced my recovery impossible, 
and that I may at any time receive Extreme Unction. 
I cannot resist writing to tell you with what immense 
happiness this glorious news has filled me. My only 
grief is to think of you, my darling papa, and of all the 
loved ones at home, who cannot yet share my happi- 
ness. ... I am in subdued agonies * for Heaven. I 
think it must be our darling Teresa who has obtained 
this grace so soon for me. Do you remember how she 
used to mimic my intense horror in case the Poor Clares 
live long? papa, I cannot tell you how inexpressibly 
happy I am! In a few days I shall take the vows. All 
my desires are being accomplished, and I can only thank 
our beloved Lord for all His infinite mercies. When 
you see Herbert, do ask him to offer up Holy Mass for 
me. I will pray so immensely for you when I am in 
Heaven, and will try and console you, my own darling 
papa." 

About a fortnight later she writes again: " I cannot 
tell you how delighted I was to receive your letter this 
morning. Your letters always fill me with joy, though 
I cannot help the tears starting to my eyes. Our Rev- 
erend Mother begs me to say that she is waiting until 
the doctor has seen me again, before she writes to give 
you an account of my health. He is coming on Satur- 
day. At present he is absent from Amiens. I feel my- 
self much about the same, though rather weaker than 

* A favorite expression of Clare's, which she was in the habit of 
using on all occasions. 



GLARE V A UGH AN. 121 

last week. What a happiness to see you again, my more 
than beloved papa, as you speak of coming, if my illness 
becomes serious; but you could only see me at the grille; 
as for entering the infirmary, nothing less than a permis- 
sion of the Pope could effect it! Our Lord came to me 
again in Holy Communion this morning in the infirm- 
ary, which was unspeakable happiness. Though I can- 
not kiss your beloved face, and tell you so 'a thousand 
times, there is not one of your children who loves you 
with such intensity as your devoted child, Sister Marie 
Claire de l'Enfant Jesus. 

" The nuns pray so much for you here! One old nun 
came to me this morning, and said she heard that you 
travel a great deal, therefore she constantly prays that 
no accident may happen to you." 

The state of weakness in which Sister Mary Clare 
found herself increasing daily, and the doctor who at- 
tended the Community having given his opinion that 
she might at any time be carried off by a sudden turn 
of her malady, it was thought prudent to administer 
the last Sacraments to her. Also the permission on 
which all her hopes were centred was granted for her 
supreme joy and consolation, namely, that of being al- 
lowed to make her Solemn Profession. 

"It is the one happiness I long for," she used con- 
tinually to repeat; and on one of the Sisters asking her 
whether she thought they had done the Will of God in 
receiving her in the state of health she was in, she an- 
swered, " Oh, yes! you have certainly done the Holy Will 
of God in receiving me; all my hopes and desires were 
to die a Poor Clare, and Our Lord has heard them," 



122 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

It is in the following terms that Clare announces 
her approaching death to her uncle, Father Edmund 
Vaughan. 

December 6th, 18 — 

" I would certainly have written to you before this, 
and have thanked you for your two letters, but you do 
not know that during the great Advent of St. Martin, 
which begins on All Saints and lasts until Christmas, 
we are not allowed to write letters, though we may re- 
ceive them. I am astonished that I have enough pa- 
tience to explain all this to you when I have such glorious 
news to tell you, namely, that I may hope in a very short 
time — in a few days, perhaps — to see my celestial Spouse 
in Heaven, and to gaze forever on that Face, the beau- 
ty of which no words can tell. I am writing to you 
from my bed, ill in the infirmary. The doctor came to 
see me last Saturday, and said my recovery was an impos- 
sibility, and that I might at any time receive Extreme 
Unction. He says that not only my chest, but every- 
thing in my body is attacked. My illness began by a 
cough two days after my clothing; and about a week or 
two after I took up my abode in the infirmary, and 
since then have not left it. . . . Our beloved Lord comes 
to me in Holy Communion here in bed, which is inex- 
pressible happiness. I am going to make my vows and 
receive Extreme Unction in a few days — perhaps even 
this afternoon. Is not all this unspeakable happiness 
for me, dearest Father Edmund? The longing, burn- 
ing desire of my heart to see my beloved Spouse so soon 
to be realized! I have a great deal to tell you, but feel 
so weak that I cannot write much more. How I will 



CLARE V A UGH AN. 123 

pray for your poor sinners when I have arrived at our 
eternal Home! Excuse this dreadful writing. Pray a 
great deal for me, particularly when you hear of my 
death. I have not been able to write to dear Kenelm 
to tell him of my happiness. You and papa are the 
only two I have written to. Do not forget prayers. 
Do ask Father Coffin to say Mass for me after my death." 

A few clays before Clare's profession, Colonel Vaughan, 
who had been informed at once of the critical state of 
his daughter's health, wishing to see her once more, 
came to Amiens. 

It was at the grille of the choir that Sister Mary 
Clare — by special dispensation, she being at the time 
only a novice — was taken in an arm-chair to this last in- 
terview. The first words addressed to her by her father 
recall those once spoken by the last of St. Bernard's 
brothers, when his brethren took leave of him before 
plunging into the solitudes of Clair vaux : "How happy 
you are," he said, " my daughter ! You are taking leave 
of earth in order to go to heaven." 

Earthly things had no share in their conversation; he 
only spoke to her of God. If he could not quite conquer 
his emotion at seeing his daughter in such an alarming 
state of health, it was at least consoling to his Christian 
heart to contemplate the peace and happiness which she 
enjoyed even in the midst of the privations that the rule 
of life which she had embraced imposed upon her. As 
for her, no greater sorrow could have been caused her 
than to have proposed to her to quit her holy retreat in 
order to return to the paternal roof. Her one wish was 
to remain in the monastery to the last. 



124 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

Thus terminated this last interview, the results of 
which had been much dreaded by the Community for 
Clare's health, in consequence of the emotion it was ex- 
pected her father's presence would cause her. But, dead 
as she was to all earthly things, she saw only God, and 
had no thoughts for any one but Him. And yet she loved 
her father very tenderly. One day she had been heard 
to say, " My God, Thou knowest how much I love my 
father, Thou knowest all I suffer at not being able to 
see him once more, to embrace him; but, my God! 
Thou knowest I love Thee more — yes, infinitely more ! " 
Earthly affections had no longer any power over her 
heart! Jesus alone reigned there as king; alone He 
filled it to its utmost capacity, as alone He occupied 
every thought and wish in her mind and soul. Her 
body was indeed still on earth, but already her soul was 
in Heaven. 

When her eldest brother, the Eeverend Herbert 
Vaughan, then an Oblate of St. Charles, came to see 
her on his way to Home, no outward sign betrayed her 
feelings; not that she was indifferent to the pleasure of 
his visit, but because grace alone worked in her — she 
loved only God, and, for His sake, those who were 
united to her by ties of blood. 

Thus when, the following morning, this dearly-loved 
brother gave her Holy Communion, she did not so much 
as cast one look upon him. Father Vaughan was so 
struck with this instance of her profound detachment, 
that he could not help remarking upon it to the other 
Sisters outside the enclosure when Mass was over. 

The conversation she had with her brother at the grille 



CLARE VA UGH AN. 125 

ran on exclusively heavenly things ; it was their last 
farewell before separating on the great journey to eter- 
nity. 

After leaving Amiens, Father Vaughan wrote the 
following account of her to Gladys: 

" I have seen Clare; she was brought into the church 
carried on a chair; very thin, much changed in face, 
like Joe, as he was four years ago. Her voice was very 
faint, but in other respects she washer old self, but very 
weak. She spoke about you and about Teresa. Her 
eyes were all the time fixed upon the Blessed Sacrament. 
I did not stay long, as I feared to tire her. Next morn- 
ing I went into the monastery and gave her Holy Com- 
munion in her cell. 

" She may yet live for several days. I should not be 
surprised even if she lingered on a month. Her great 
mortification now is not to pray, or ask for death, but 
to be resigned to God's will without asking to die. 

"She is immensely happy ; nothing could exceed her 
joy; but she is purified, chastened, and perfected, and 
therefore improved, and ready for admission into the 
bosom of the Lord Our God. 

" Let us pray to God that we, too, may become puri- 
fied and perfected here in this world." 

Sister Mary Clare's great desire was that the Feast of 
the Immaculate Conception should be chosen for her 
Profession, and also that she should receive the last Sac- 
raments upon it. 

Her wish in this choice of a day was to put herself 
more particularly under the protection of Our Lady, and 
to obtain from the intercession of this all-powerful 



126 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

Mother the grace from her Divine Son of dying on her 
Feast. 

She therefore begged all the Keligious to unite with 
her in a Novena to the Immaculate Conception to ob- 
tain this grace, submitting, however, the circumstances 
and time of her death entirely to the will and good 
pleasure of God. 

The day of the Feast having arrived, she received the 
last Sacraments from the hand of the venerable Superior 
of the house, assisted by the chaplain, with sentiments 
of the liveliest devotion. She answered all the prayers 
with the greatest fervor and clearness of mind, and her 
fervor was redoubled, if possible, in pronouncing her 
solemn vows. All who were present were struck by the 
holy eagerness with which she took the book presented 
to her by the Eev. Mother Abbess ; no one could forget 
the happy smile which lit up her face, and the thrilling 
tones with which she pronounced the formula of her 
vows. 

From that day to the day of her holy and beautiful 
death God alone occupied all her thoughts ; prayer suc- 
ceeded prayer, one spiritual lecture followed another; 
still, she never showed the smallest symptom of weariness 
or fatigue; her patience never gave way for one instant 
during the whole course of her illness, which lasted 
nearly three months. Her infirmarian, as well as her 
other Sisters in religion, could not sufficiently admire 
how in the midst of her sufferings, acute as they were, 
not only she never uttered a complaint, but not even a 
shade was seen to rest on her countenance. Always 
calm and contented under all circumstances, whatever 




INTERIOR OF CELL WHERE CLARE PRONOUNCED HER 
yaws, AND DIED. 



GLARE VAUGHAN. 127 

noise was made around her, whether any one spoke, or 
left the door open or shut it, conscious as she was of the 
inconvenience, it mattered not. Her infirmarian had 
to be most careful to provide for all her wants; she never 
manifested any desire, and was always satisfied with 
everything. 

If any comfort or alleviation was offered her she al- 
most always sought to avoid accepting it; and if she 
availed herself of it, it was only through obedience. A 
few moments before breathing her last sigh, she glanced 
towards the window, and said: "It is very cold, is it 
not ? " A Sister, perceiving that her hands were cold as 
ice, presented her instantly with a hot-water tin. " Per- 
haps/'' she said, refusing it, "it would be better to suf- 
fer this slight discomfort"; but the Mother Abbess, 
having told her to use it, she submitted at once, thus 
uniting to the last the utmost obedience with morti- 
fication. 

Doubtless it would cause astonishment that Sister 
Mary Clare, who had been so carefully brought up, and 
whose constitution was by nature delicate, should carry 
mortification to such lengths, if one did not know what 
the love of Jesus Christ can work in a soul when it 
takes entire possession of it. As, according to Our 
Lord's own words, no one can give a greater proof of 
his love than "to give his life for his friend," the soul 
which is once inflamed with this divine ardor no longer 
lives: her life is a continual death, and her only desire 
is to make a victim of her body in order to be immo- 
lated night and day at the altar of divine Love. 

Sister Mary Clare always showed the greatest grati- 



128 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

tude for all, even to the smallest, services which were 
rendered her. One night she happened to be more 
than usually suffering, and speaking to the Infirmarian, 
who was sleeping close beside her, she cried out, 
" Quick, quick, Sister, I am going to be sick." Hardly 
had she uttered the words than she regretted them 
deeply, and the next day she said to the Infirmarian, 
" What could you have thought of me last night ? I 
was indeed very troublesome, and showed very little 
spirit of penance." The Religious at first could not 
imagine to what she alluded, and only begged her to 
calm herself, and make every possible use of her ser- 
vices. 

The Mother Abbess, seeing her one day a prey to the 
acutest suffering, said: "Perhaps you would not have 
asked to die, if you had known all the pain you would 
have to go through first." "Oh, yes, dear Reverend 
Mother," she answered, "that fear would never have 
prevented me from asking the grace to die! " Though 
her sufferings were at times almost greater than she 
could bear, she would have been quite willing to see 
them increase, not precisely to hasten the moment of 
her deliverance, but so as to be able to answer in the 
words of the Apostles, when Our Saviour addressed Him- 
self to them and asked them if they could drink the 
chalice with Him, "Yes, Lord, if only Thou givest us 
the strength." 

Thus it was that she begged one of the Religious who 
watched by her bedside to pray that she might have a 
long and painful agony. The moment, however, was 
not far removed, and it was by the renunciation of the 



GLARE VAUGHAN. 129 

most ardent desire of her heart — to die speedily — that 
she prepared for it, thus preferring in that, as in all 
things, to abandon herself to the good pleasure of her 
Lord and Saviour. Two or three weeks before her death 
she takes farewell, in the following letter, of the dear 
sister who was next to her in age, the changed and 
trembling handwriting showing how much the effort 
cost her. It was her last letter. 

" I am going to w r rite you a long letter, to beg you 
not to grieve too much when you hear of my death. 
Only think, when I am in Heaven we shall always be 
able to talk to each other, whereas here w T e can never 
see each other or talk easily together. Our Lord loves 
you very tenderly, very specially, dearest Mary, for He 
leads you to Himself along the way of sorrows; and I 
am sure He and His sweet Mother will console you, and 
will teach you to bear generously and heroically for 
their sakes the heavy trials He sends you. Our Lord 
Himself says by the mouth of His prophet, c As one 
whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you, 
and you will be comforted in Jerusalem/ Courage, 
then, darling, courage! The greater your suffering, the 
greater will be your crown, and then you will have the 
special love of Jesus and Mary. No one knows how 
deeply I feel for you. You will be the first one in my 
thoughts when I reach my eternal Home. I will beg 
Our Lord not to leave you long on earth. Offer up 
your sorrows in union with the sorrows of the suffering 
Heart of Jesus for my soul after my death. Do get 
oceans of prayers for me. I am so intensely happy at 
the thought that I am so soon going to die! How im- 



130 CLARE V AUG HAN, 

mensely loving of Our Lord to take me so soon, is it 
not? I am sure your only joy in the world will be to 
adore and watch before the Blessed Sacrament. It is 
in that treasury of grace you will find all your strength 
and consolation, as I have found from my own experi- 
ence. Do you remember before I came here how often 
I used to say to you: ' Take all that shall be brought up- 
on thee, and in thy sorrow endure, and in thy humili- 
ation keep patience ' ? Now I wish I could say some- 
thing to make you laugh, and to send away the tears 
from that dear pale face. Do you remember. . . . Do 
not forget that this letter is intended for you. I am 
writing it by scraps every day, as I feel extremely 
weak — too weak to write a long letter at once. 

" Thursday. Since I began this letter I have seen 
another doctor, who says I may yet live another month. 
Kiss the two darling little ones, and tell them never 
to forget Clare, but to pray for her every day, and 
then she will pray for them in their home in the 
skies ! Ask Smith when she is going to be a Catholic. 
Give dear old White my love, and ask her to pray that 
I may make a happy death, and that I may not only be 
saved, but that my soul may not pass through the 
flames of Purgatory. Prayer is all-powerful, and may 
obtain even that. How you must long to be a nun! I 
like the Order you have chosen, or rather I should say 
the Order God has chosen for you. I think it is a good 
thing for the two little ones that you stay with them 

still for some little time, especially for . Does your 

governess take you to visit the Blessed Sacrament every 
day? If so, it must be a great comfort to you. It is He 



GLARE VAUGHAN. 131 

alone who can console you, and it is He alone who 
knows how to sympathize with every human grief; and 
your grief will be turned almost into joy when you think 
that when your heart is almost breaking with sorrow it 
is then that you are a subject of envy to the very 
angels and saints, because of your likeness to the Man 
of Sorrows." 

On the evening of the Sunday in the Octave of the 
Epiphany a violent crisis in her malady took place, and 
it was thought by all that she was very near her end. 
She remained some time unconscious, and it was only 
by means of eau de cologne and other stimulants that 
she could be brought round. All the Community was 
assembled in prayer round her bedside; when she saw 
herself thus surrounded, she exclaimed, " How sweet it 
is to die like this!" She answered aloud the invoca- 
tions in the Litany of Our Lady, and on the Abbess 
saying to her, (( Courage, my child, courage! death is not 
far off, your crown will quickly follow." " It is all very 
well to say, ' Courage, Clare, courage! '" she answered, 
" w r hen as yet I can only see Heaven through a tiny lit- 
tle hole "; in saying these words she explained her 
meaning by holding up her hand half-closed, so that 
only a little scrap of daylight could be seen through it. 

" In fine," she continued, " I am still a long way off "; 
and she was right, as the alarm, serious though it was, 
passed off. 

Kegular in her habits and obedient to the last, she 
would only take her nourishment at the same hours as 
those when the Community took their meals. A quar- 
ter of an orange, some fruit at the beginning of her ill- 



132 GLARE VAUGHAN. 

ness, after that a little lemonade, and some spoonfuls 
of soup (meagre) was all the food she took; it was im- 
possible for her to keep anything else down. 

One day she was given a little piece of chocolate when 
she could not take any other form of nourishment. 

" Oh! " she exclaimed. " I could not eat all that; it 
would make me live too long, and I am longing so to 
go" ; and she left half of it. 

At last the eve of the 20th of January arrived, the 
Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, and the day when 
our dear Sister Mary Clare of the Infant Jesus was to 
join the virgins " who follow the Lamb whithersoever 
He goes," to sing with them the immortal canticle with 
which they alone will make the heavenly vault resound. 

Having had the happiness of communicating that 
morning, she received a visit early from the Mother 
Abbess, who asked her what Our Lord had said to her 
in coming to visit her, and whether He had told her that 
He would come to fetch her that day. 

" Our Lord made me feel," she said, " that He took 
such pleasure in my sufferings that I did not dare to ask 
Him to take me away with Him." 

She had frequent and terrible vomitings all day long, 
and towards night her weakness became very great. 

About seven o'clock the Mother Abbess came to her 
bedside with a great part of the Community, and from 
that time she never left the dying Sister till she breathed 
her last. All prayed fervently for her intention. Sister 
Mary Clare preserved full consciousness till the last. 
She herself begged to be allowed to renew her vows, and 
did so with the greatest fervor. About nine o'clock 



CLARE VAUGFTAN. 133 

she turned her head to those of the Community who were 
obliged to leave in order to say Matins, and to go to take 
their hour of adoration, and said, with a gentle smile, 
" Adieu, my dear Sisters, adieu. " Then she added, 
"Pray" ; and then again, with a most touching expres- 
sion to the Mother Abbess and the Sister nearest to her, 
" Pray for me, I am dying." And when it was repre- 
sented to her that she was exhausting herself by trying 
to speak, " Never mind," she said, " pray, pray." 

She herself, in her holy impatience to possess her Be- 
loved, ceased not to send Him faithful precursors in the 
ardent transports of her loving heart. 

Her crucifix never left her lips; she kissed it inces- 
santly with inexpressible love and affection. About 
half-past nine the Mother Abbess asked her how soon 
she thought she would die. " In about two hours," she 
said, "Our Lord will come and fetch me." 

It was about half-past twelve, whilst the choir were 
singing the third Nocturn of the glorious martyrs SS. 
Fabian and Sebastian, that her beautiful soul took flight 
on the wings of divine love for the regions of the heav- 
enly Jerusalem, there to drink deeply of the torrent of 
delights with which God rewards His chosen ones. A 
few moments before breathing her last, her countenance 
suddenly assumed a celestial expression, she took an at- 
titude of profound respect, and made signs to those who 
were with her to follow her example, saying some words 
at the same time which they did not understand, and of 
which they had not the presence of mind to ask her an 
explanation. No doubt, faithful to His promise, Our 
Lord had come to welcome His beloved Spouse, or had 



134 CLARE VAUGHAN. 

deputed, as He has sometimes done with regard to other 
holy souls, a heavenly ambassador to meet her and take 
her into His presence. 

After Sister Mary Clare's death an angelic smile still 
appeared to hover round her lips; her forehead, pure as 
alabaster, presented a symbol of innocence and purity 
to all who saw her; whilst a voice seemed to say to those 
Mothers and Sisters, who, kneeling round her bed, shed 
a last tear and said a last prayer: "Weep not for her; 
she is not dead, she sleepetb." 

The following prayer, composed by Sister Mary Clare, 
was found under the monstrance where the Blessed Sac- 
rament is exposed night and day before the grille. 

" Jesus, my sweet and only Love, hearken to the 
ardent prayer of a most unworthy sinner, who is also 
Your child, Your betrothed, and Your spouse. I be- 
seech You by Your Heart, burning with love for sin- 
ners, and in honor of the Sacrament of Your Love, to 
grant that my chest may be soon attacked, and that I 
may die and go to You, my dear, dear Master, my Be- 
loved. I am too unworthy for You to listen to me, 
miserable sinner that I am. But I confide in Your 
enormous love and in Your mercy. I know, Jesus! 
that if I trust in You I shall not be confounded. 
Jesus, increase my faith! My only sweetest Love, help 
me, and be merciful to Your devoted and unworthy 
spouse, Sister Clare of the Infant Jesus, Victim of the 
Blessed Sacrament." 

Bishop Brownlow has just published the Memoirs of 
Mother Mary Rose Columba Adams, 0. P., First Prior- 
ess of St. Dominic's Convent, and Foundress of the Per- 



GLARE V A UGH AN. 135 

petual Adoration at North Adelaide, in which he quotes 
a letter of hers, written to a friend Dec. 31, 1889, in 
which she says : 

" The life of Clare Vaughan made a great and a very 
good impression. I am so glad we shall have a copy of 
our own. It was the ardor of her charity, not austeri- 
ties, that caused the bodily frame to fail, the keen spirit 
cutting through its sheath of flesh; she must immolate 
herself, it was a kind of necessity with her. Death was 
truly an entrance into life. I can quite believe she 
would rejoice really, I might say naturally, when she 
knew she would not long be detained here. It is a life 
that carries conviction with it, so true was the inten- 
sity of her love. I often offer her love to our dear Lord, 
and tell Him that I wish I had her faith and love, though 
I know I am not worthy of such gifts as were hers." — 
From Memoir of Mother Mary Rose Columba Adams, 0. 
P., ~by the Bight Reverend W. R. Brownlow, Bishop 
of Clifton. 




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